The Case of the Bird

I've said over the past ten or so years that weather in the south can be described as the following: where one can experience all four seasons in one week. When my children wake up, the first words are either "Can I have dessert after breakfast?" or "When can we go outside and play?" T-Pup is old enough to know the differences in the weather. When he woke Monday and looked out of the blinds, he said "is it going to rain? is it cold? will there be inclement weather?" (not really, but I just thought I'd add a big word for dramatic effect). I answered "no" to all of his questions, so he began to put on his camo crocs and head for the door. Normally I wouldn't mind, but this day was different.

A little bit earlier I scurried down our driveway in my pajamas to put a bill in the mail box. When I noticed our neighbor's deserted tricycle at the edge of our drive, I became slightly concerned. As I walked a few more steps, I noticed it. Ohh, ew. Hard crash landing...

Mr. Bird.

Apparently sometime in the wee hours of the morning Mr. Bird made his final descent into our driveway. The poor guy (or gal, didn't take time to look...not that I could identify it either way...) was apparently sitting on the power line that crosses over our driveway. The details after that are fuzzy, but I can tell you the end result... Mr. Bird is now the former Mr. Bird.

As standing there in my pajamas I'm trying to figure out if W is at school or work today; thankfully, work won out. I ran inside and called him. There's been a tragedy. Not really, but goodness I was on a roll. I told him of the situation and that we couldn't go play outside until it was cleaned up. Thankfully he graciously accepted the call of duty and said he would stop by the house after he went to lunch with some friends.

So, back to T-Pup. "But momma, if it is so nice outside why can't we go play?" I then explained the little blob at the end of our driveway and that it was messy and gross and also that Daddy would be home at lunch to take care of it for us. He then asked if Mr. Bird was stinky and I told him that yes, with the sun beating down on Mr. Bird like it was and would be for the next 3 hours, I suspected that Mr. Bird would be stinky.

He agreed it would be much better for us to stay inside.

W comes home and scoops up the bird with the shovel and tosses it into our back pasture disposes of it properly. He comes back in saying "I got it. There is a little juice left on the drive so you may want to clean that up before taking the kids out."

Ahem.

I go out with the hose and a large container of clorox and get to work. As I was hosing the driveway down, the water pushed something into the street. I went over to look, and it was one of Mr. Bird's organs. My guess from this is that it was the stomach. I blasted that thing clear across the street with my water hose and used enough clorox to make Cher's hair blonde.

Rest in peace, Mr. Bird.