I love birds (yes, this is related). I grew up helping my dad raise exotic birds so I'm not sure if it started then, but there's almost nothing cuter than seeing a little bird hop around (obviously baby pandas win in the cuteness contest but birds are a close second). Last weekend I took Coconut outside in the morning and saw something bright out of the corner of my eye. I didn't have my contacts in so everything was a little blurry but I could tell that the bright object was the woodpecker that hung out in our tree frequently. He had a red head, black and brown stripped body, and although he was a bit annoying when he was pecking on the trees on the mornings I could actually sleep in, I always loved seeing him in the yard. I was so sad.
I asked Mr. C later if he would bury the bird. We started talking about something else and moved on. About an hour later he found me and verified that I really wasn't joking about the burial. To me it just seemed wrong to put him in the trash. I could tell that Mr. C thought I was nuts, but a few moments later I saw him out back with a shovel, digging away at the very hard ground below the tree the woodpecker frequented. He buried him without complaining or eye-rolling. I loved the bouquet of my favorite flowers Mr. C sent me last week, but it was nothing compared to the small, but full-of-love gesture I witnessed Saturday morning. It really is the little things.
Happy Anniversary Mr.C! I look forward to many, many more, but hopefully no more birdie burials.
