What is it with me and birds lately?
Walking up my stairs, I lift my head, only to see a bird of brilliant color lying on my rocker. You know his heartbeat is non-existent. Birds are smart. They don't lay down on rockers to rest or take a little break.
Peeking a little closer, there are no apparent injuries. I carefully pick him up by his cold, stiff legs. Maggie really wants to play with him, toss him around a bit, roll on him.
We carry him down to the river for a proper burial. I didn't use my strong arm, apparently. I'm not quite sure he made it to the river. The cliffs prevented me from seeing just exactly where he landed. In the water, I hope. Please land in the water. A seamless, dignified burial would be respectful.
No, he wasn't the same bird who flew around my living room a few days back. That particular little bird wasn't near as pretty. Must have been a female.
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