spectating participant


August 28, 2006

feather flurries

Filed under: life — suzanne henderson @ 2:28 pm

It was a beautiful Friday morning. Alex and I were driving away from the school and taking advantage of the last school-free week day when it happened. Cruising down the street, talking about the day’s adventure with the windows rolled down, and something hits the edge of my seat. A rock? A branch? I just couldn’t tell, it was sizable and stung my arm even without perceived direct contact. I scanned all the mirrors looking for mischievous grins on any by-standing children, but nothing — nothing, but a flutter of visual activity in the back seat. “Leaves,” Alex tells me as something flitters past my face and out the window.

The abrupt disruption to my drive continues to bother me as we drive to our first destination. Once there, I grab my purse from the back seat, take a quick glance and see nothing. Must have been a branch falling and landing inside my moving car — odd. We get some shopping taken care of and then grab lunch. As we’re driving to our final destination, the incident completely removed from memory, feathers start floating about in the car — tiny little feathers, circling the wind and eventually traveling out the window. Feathers — not leaves.

Alex quickly checks in the back seat, comments on a small selection of feathers and assures me that nothing is there. We get to our last stop for the afternoon and I force myself to check again — nothing in the back seat. I lean forward to check under my seat and — I think I saw a leg. I jump back, Alex eagerly takes and look and confirms that there is indeed a dead bird under my seat. Ach! A dead bird? I convince myself that what I saw was just a twig and that Alex is pulling my leg, as she loves to do, but another quick inspection shows more feathers and very distinct bird feet. Eeew.

We do our final school shopping and drive home — all the way I’m thinking about this dead bird with the constant reminder of feathers fluttering by. At home, Alex promptly takes care of the problem, getting rid of the dead beast, and proudly announces that it wasn’t all cut up and that there is no bird blood all over my car — how reassuring. She provides a realistic imitation of its lifeless body and attempts to comfort me with the fact that it just broke its neck and died. She then proceeds to educate me on her many adventures of getting rid of dead animals — I guess one of the perks of a mile long walk/ride home from the bus stop.

However, Alex left all of the discarded feathers and takes advantage of the opportunity to laugh at my discomfort about the whole situation every time one flies around the car before escaping through the window. Hopefully the car will run out of feathers soon because it still gets under my skin that a bird flew into the open window of my moving car and died under my seat.