Bird Murderer
I caused a bird's death last night.
Here's what happened: it was already bedtime so I took Tigger outside to go one more time. While he was faffing about the yard I decided to water my petunias that are in hanging baskets and are clinging desperately to life. I don't know why they are so dried up and dying. Anyway. I knew that one of them had a bird nest in it and the last time I looked it was full of little baby bird eggs. I peeped into the basket to see if they were still in there and thought I saw an actual bird but I wasn't sure. I reached up to get the basket and carefully bring it down and about that time the bird flies out and scared the shit out of me.
I don't know if she was a baby bird - all the eggs were gone - or the mother bird. I'm not exactly a member of the Audubon Society. But for some reason she couldn't fly well, or in her panic she banged into a few things. Whatever the reason, she ended up face down on my deck.
She was so little and soft. I managed to get her on her side and she just lay there, opening and closing her beak and I SWEAR she was saying "help, help". Or some last words to her bird husband and children. That's all I could think about, who is she thinking about, what is she saying to them? I thought maybe she was in shock and if I got her back in the nest she'd be ok. So I picked her up carefully and put her in the basket.
And then she died.
So, at ten o'clock last night I was standing barefoot on my deck weeping over a little brown bird. Of course I had to bury her so I found a little spot under some trees and gave her a proper burial, and I'm sure all her bird friends and family were watching from the trees so I hope they at least appreciate that I gave them a grave to go visit, after killing her and all. It was the least I could do, seeing as I ripped her away from them and all that.
If you're not already raising an eyebrow at how my mind works, try this on for size: while I was digging the hole, I thought "Sometimes I really fucking hate myself." Then when I had finished I leaned on the shovel and looked up at the stars and thought "When I do have kids, maybe I'll be a good parent after all - if I'm the kind of person who will dig a little bird grave at 10:00 at night."
I looked at the nest again when I was done, and saw it was built with red strings entertwined with all the twigs and straw. Where do they find red string?
Here's what happened: it was already bedtime so I took Tigger outside to go one more time. While he was faffing about the yard I decided to water my petunias that are in hanging baskets and are clinging desperately to life. I don't know why they are so dried up and dying. Anyway. I knew that one of them had a bird nest in it and the last time I looked it was full of little baby bird eggs. I peeped into the basket to see if they were still in there and thought I saw an actual bird but I wasn't sure. I reached up to get the basket and carefully bring it down and about that time the bird flies out and scared the shit out of me.
I don't know if she was a baby bird - all the eggs were gone - or the mother bird. I'm not exactly a member of the Audubon Society. But for some reason she couldn't fly well, or in her panic she banged into a few things. Whatever the reason, she ended up face down on my deck.
She was so little and soft. I managed to get her on her side and she just lay there, opening and closing her beak and I SWEAR she was saying "help, help". Or some last words to her bird husband and children. That's all I could think about, who is she thinking about, what is she saying to them? I thought maybe she was in shock and if I got her back in the nest she'd be ok. So I picked her up carefully and put her in the basket.
And then she died.
So, at ten o'clock last night I was standing barefoot on my deck weeping over a little brown bird. Of course I had to bury her so I found a little spot under some trees and gave her a proper burial, and I'm sure all her bird friends and family were watching from the trees so I hope they at least appreciate that I gave them a grave to go visit, after killing her and all. It was the least I could do, seeing as I ripped her away from them and all that.
If you're not already raising an eyebrow at how my mind works, try this on for size: while I was digging the hole, I thought "Sometimes I really fucking hate myself." Then when I had finished I leaned on the shovel and looked up at the stars and thought "When I do have kids, maybe I'll be a good parent after all - if I'm the kind of person who will dig a little bird grave at 10:00 at night."
I looked at the nest again when I was done, and saw it was built with red strings entertwined with all the twigs and straw. Where do they find red string?
posted by Natalie | 7:21 AM
2 Comments:
Aw. That's so sad.
Those hanging baskets do get really dried out. Plus I don't think the dirt they come with is very high quality.
Do you have a hole in your red sweater?
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