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.
“Mama?”
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.
Bye-bye, birdie.
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.
