Pecking orders

(This poem was inspired by a prompt to write "a final straw" poem. It serves as a real-life metaphor for a particular incident for me. Perhaps it will do the same for others, too.)

The crumbs fly carelessly from the giver's hand
catching the wind and drifting
before tumbling to the ground.
The birds see the crumbs
and scramble for them,
knocking over, pecking each other
in the lust for more than one morsel.
The birds who get the most are the fattest,
and perhaps the least healthiest.
They knew -- but failed to remember -- in their greed
that the crumbs were not real sustenance
but junk discarded from a human hand that cared little
of their fates.

One bird failed to make it to the fest in time.
She nibbled plaintively at a single crumb,
and then turned back to her regular diet
of grubs, worms, ants, bugs, and grass.
As her companions grew fat and complacent,
she found herself feeling refreshed
by her own sense of peace. She continued to live
       her bird-like life, finding joy in her ritual
       of foraging, daily baths, travels to new sights,
       and leisurely fluffings of her feathers in the sun.

        She was among the birds
that survived her first year,
a year when eight out of ten birds perish,
and lived a long and prosperous life.
For her, the fight for crumbs was the final straw.
She was not going to struggle anymore.