Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Animals, Childhood, Children, Life Lessons, Memories, Mothering, Nature, Parenting | Posted on 27-06-2012
That’s not something you hear every day. Yet, I’ve heard it twice.
Kill two birds with one Mom.
The second story goes like this. It was a sunny day, the kind of day where you hear the birds sing. A handsome Robin flew into our garage and perched on the rafters. We noticed him when my son and I unloading groceries from Costco.
I opened up the garage so it would fly out.
Instead of flying out to freedom, the bird got caught between the garage door and the ceiling. He was crushed. And fell to the ground. Dead. Legs-in-the-air dead.
My son’s mouth dropped open. He was pissed. “MOM! YOU’RE AN ANIMAL MURDERER!” he yelled. I felt like crap.
See, I’m the type of person who couldn’t slaughter my own meat if I were a pioneer woman. So killing a bird with my two hands (and a garage door opener) made me guilt-ridden.
But oh, there’s a first story.
A perfectly white homing pigeon visited. It bobbed around our driveway and would perch on the fence. We fed it bird seed. He was gentle and nearly ate out of our hands.
Every morning, we’d scamper outside to see if our pigeon was still there. He was! He liked us. He was our newest pet.
Then one day, the kids were piled in the backseat, I backed up the car, I killed that pigeon. I stopped when I heard the “thunk.” And I knew. My heart sank.
We all clamored out. Red oozed onto white.
The chorus yelled, “”MOM! YOU’RE AN ANIMAL MURDERER!”
Another bird, another burial, another guilty Mom, another life lesson.