It happened in the night, right before the weekend.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the patch of light gray, lit up by the bright sun, and resplendent against the drab brown ground. When subtle tones and typically-dull colors are combined, the results can be spellbinding. Upon closer inspection, it was a pile of feathers. It looked like a bird had exploded, like some violent but comical explosion in a cartoon.
Body and bones were missing, but in the endless number of feathers blowing around the background, it seemed all the bird’s feathered finery had been left behind. Who or what could have done such a thing?
Andy summed it up thusly: the bird went poof.
I hope it was quick and relatively painless.
The results, while pretty, were also pretty macabre.
Our backyard is Thunderdome for birds.
Fowl play indeed.
