(Sing to the tune, "Girlfriend in a Coma" by Smiths)
Violent afternoon in the backyard.
Bird of prey, possibly Golden Eagle swooped down on to an unsuspecting lone pigeon wandering around our garden at about 3 this afternoon and "Whoosh"... feathers literally flying, Mark yelping (He was in the conservatory studying with a front row view) and suddenly the pigeon is headless. And lifeless, The murdering hawk flew away without its snack and now we have a dead bird in the back yard. We thought the hawk would return to, I dunno, eat it? Play with it? Show his pals? Alas, no.
It is distracting and odd. And am thanking he universe for having someone like Mark who can brandish a garbage bag and make it go away. I don't feel compelled to bury him. We weren't even friends. He was trespassing. Still, I feel for the guy. He never saw it coming.
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