The Strange Case of The Pretty Birds

I don't know where they came from
or how it is they happened to fall
onto the street
together

The pretty birds
their exotic beauty
undeniable now
as they lay on the red brick
blue and gold feathers
rustling
in the cold October breeze.

Birds and Buildings...
the people passed by
undeterred and unaffected
the lady jogger
the non-discript family
pushing a stroller
spinning the wheels.

a tear fell from my eye
a tear for the birds and I
alone watching, wondering
would anybody else be
crying,
wishing,
whying
for the life, now stolen
undeniable lay?



October 16, 2005

I found the birds on my way back from the gym. They were lying perfectly side by side as if someone had placed them there to make a statement.
I stood and stared at them for a while, wondering how it was they came to be.
Two birds obviously belonging to completely different species,
resting forever in the stillness of death.

After about 15 minutes with the birds, I came upstairs to tell my room-mate about what I had seen. He suggested that I call 311 and report the incident so that the health department so that they could examine the birds for West Nile Virus or Asian Bird Flue. I called right away and after multiple transfers from department to department, I found myself on the phone with a Mr. Eric Mack from the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene. He told me that he would put in the report but that if I wanted to I could dispose of the birds myself. Mr. Mack went on tell me how to do that without getting coodies and then gave me a reference number for our transaction.

We, my room-mate and I, decided to pick up the birds ourselves and try to get in touch with the proper authorities. This was just to odd to leave to chance, or as it were, the department of sanitation. Here were two birds, one completely in tact, no clear sign of death, and the other with a smashed in cranium. Strange. I wondered if it was some kind of omen. What does it all mean? What am I supposed to do?

We picked up the birds in some plastic, downstairs deli, bags. We individually wrapped the birds and brought them up-stairs and hung them off the fire escape. I hope they stay cold enough out there. When I got back from work I saw the bag hanging outside the living-room window and wondered if we had done the right thing.

When I lived in Cozumel the descendants of Mayan Indians lived across the street and around the jungle by our house. It was rumored that these people would cast spells on animals and flowers and leave them outside your house so that you would find them. Now, in the stillness of the night, with the full moon casting its florescent glow throughout the apartment, I couldn’t help but remember those far away moments.
I lit a candle and stared out the window at the pretty birds in the plastic bag, rustling in the cold night air.