This morning my wife, Lisa, and daughter, Maggie (13), pulled into our driveway after an energizing run. What a great way to start the day.
Lisa, alas, did not notice the cardinal that was moving awkwardly on the pavement. Or, I guess, Lisa just expected that it would fly away. Most birds do. This one did not. Splat.
Maggie said, “Mama? Did you just . . . ?”
Our daughter was upset. Well on her way to becoming a young woman, Maggie was suddenly a little girl again, traumatized, struggling to understand.
The poor bird had no chance against a Toyota Camry.
In the car, there was a pause. Maggie distraught, in disbelief.
Lisa thinking, “Uh-oh.”
My wife steps out of the car to see what’s to be done, figuring it will involve a shovel and a garbage can and perhaps a few years of therapy for the aforementioned Maggie. Insurance almost certainly won’t cover it.
Suddenly a large black crow swoops down, grabs the splattered cardinal in its beak, and flies off.
Maggie catatonic now, sputtering, “Mama? Mama?”
Two minutes later, our friend across the street texted Lisa: “What did that bird have in its mouth? Something red? You hit it? Then the crow swooped in? Sorry she witnessed that.”
Damn, a witness!
Good morning, folks. Carry on.
Nothing to see here, nothing at all.
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