There’s an enormous pine tree across the street from Supergenius HQ. The lowest branches of the tree are about a foot and a half off the ground. Hanging by a thread, literally, from one of the bottom branches is a dead bird. It’s been there since Monday.
I am not sure how the bird got tangled in the string and stuck swinging from the branch, but there it is, the saddest thing. The string is wrapped around his wings. It’s as though it is suspended there by its shoulders, the little beak resting on his chest, little bird feet dangling about six inches off the ground.
When I first noticed it on Monday, I figured the death was pretty recent and a neighborhood pet or critter would come along and take care of it. Then when the lawn care people came to cut the lawns yesterday I thought they’d take care of it.
The little bird is still swinging there. Knowing the bird is there makes the cry of the mourning dove who lives near by sound even more forlorn. Last night as we sat on my front porch watching the Tibbles eat sandwiches I asked Sister #2 what I should do about.
“Just leave it,” she said. “Let nature take its course.”
“It seems disrespectful,” I said.
“It’s probably fake.”
“No, it’s real.”
Max volunteered to go poke it with a stick, but I wouldn’t let him. Not only did I not want the three Tibbles following him over there, but if I were swinging dead from a tree I wouldn’t want to be poked with a stick. After his parents and the Tibbles left, he went over and verified that it was real.
“It’s real,” he shouted from across the street.
“I know,” I said.
“It’s really dead too,” Jaycie said, as they walked back over.
Now, the bird just swings there and I don’t know what to do about it.