Yesterday, while Burge was making sandwiches for the kids for lunch, I was in the dining room getting something out of the buffet. I happened to glance out the dining room window and saw a bird on the windowsill. It appeared to be taking a nap. Now, if you know me at all, you know that birds and I don’t mesh well. I think I must have had some kind of traumatic experience with a bird in my childhood that I have blocked out. In short, I don’t like them. At all.
But for the sake of education, I put my dislike aside for a little nature lesson. I quietly called the kids over to observe the sleeping bird. This was the moment that I started to question the bird’s, how do I say this, aliveness. A 6 year old and a 2 year old don’t do anything quietly. And yet still the bird never moved. I raised the blinds. Not a flinch. Yep, I had my kids oohing and ahhing over a dead bird.
Thankfully, Burge called them to eat lunch and spared me from having to explain then about why the bird was so still. Abby did ask later why the bird was still there, and I explained as gently as I could that he had gotten too cold and died. She then asked why the millions of crows in our yard were still alive, and I just had to be honest. I told her that apparently they were smart enough to find a warm place to ride out the cold weather instead of perching on a window ledge out in the middle of the elements.
I kind of feel like we need to have a little funeral for the poor bird. You know, read a little scripture out of Ecclesiastes and give it a proper burial. If only we could figure out how to get it down off the two-story window ledge.