I really should have cynically put the dead bird in a bag and thrown it in the trash bin.
Now I can’t stop looking at the spot where I buried it, thinking about it, wondering about it, sad about it. It’s creeping me out.
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I really should have cynically put the dead bird in a bag and thrown it in the trash bin.
Now I can’t stop looking at the spot where I buried it, thinking about it, wondering about it, sad about it. It’s creeping me out.
Kind’a creepin’ me out too, but in a different way.
As you know… it’s a bird. I certainly hope you don’t feel the same way about the chicken breast I presume you’ve consumed within the last few meals.
….but he was kind of a cute lil’ fella.
Last week I found some birds NESTING in my hanging ferns. To the point where there were eggs and everything. But, those ferns were expensive so I took out the nests, eggs and all and placed them in the yard (to their eventual doom I suppose). So, in one ironic swoop, I aborted a few baby birds and pissed off a mother, and probably PETA (the PETA aspect I thoroughly enjoyed).
So, what was my justification? First off the momma birds kept spooking the crap out of me every time I’d water- like they were protecting something, huh, whatever. But like I said- those ferns were EXPENSIVE. Really it’s all about perspective and pocketbook.
Now, off to run my petroleum conglomerate.
Carry on.