Thursday, 29 June 2017

There’s a bird dying in our garden #DadDirt



You know that you are a Great British Dad when...
...you have to face the death.


My Long-Suffering Wife (LSW) and I are standing over a bird that’s dying in the garden.

ME
I didn’t want to tell you about it.
But then I thought you’d see it later, so I wanted to brace you for it.

LSW
It’s still breathing.

The bird is panting. Blood down its side. Feathers missing.

ME
Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work now.

LATER. My LSW is still standing, staring at it.

LSW
It’s still breathing.

I cross in holding a spade.

LSW
You're not going to --

ME
This? No! I'm taking it in. It's gonna rain.

LSW
It’s a really big bird.
It looks young, but its really big.
Is it a bird of prey?

ME
I don’t think us looking at it is going to help it much though.

LATER. I’m on a train, and get a text.

“Gave bird some water on plate. It looked at me to say thank you! Went back to check on it and it had gone. It’s been dragged by something into the strawberry patch. Dead now. I’m hoping whatever finished it off will come back and tidy up because there’s quite a mess. Think it was a cuckoo chick xxx

LATER. I dump my bag in the kitchen.

ME
It was a cuckoo wasn’t it.
I felt better about that.
It was a nest-stealing that went wrong.

LSW
Yeah I think the robins must’ve pushed it out.
Fed up of feeding it.

ME
Maybe it just fell out.
Too big for the tiny nest.

LSW
It wasn’t the baby cuckoo’s fault though.

ME
No.


Previous post...
It’s not a blob of cream on my top lip, it’s a scar. Honest. #DadDirt


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