There’s a dead bird on our porch, he said.
He’s always been overly repulsed by the sight of dead animals. And so from our earliest days together it was one of the few critter-related matters I had to take on in our relationship, as he, incongruous as it may seem, has no problem killing hideous eleventy-bajillion-legged alien bugs, or escorting by hand the odd lost ladybug that materializes inside our house back out to its proper place among our garden’s hydrangea blooms. But I am the sole Person Who Deals With Dead Things around here, and as such have, over the years, had to dispose of a fair number of hapless former mice, tangible evidence of our retiring housecats’ still formidable hunting skills. Anyway, the point is that I knew immediately he’d be of no help in dealing with the thing on our porch.
Where is it? I asked, grimacing.
His left arm flew up, gesturing broadly toward the front of our house. He winced visibly. Over there.
I peered out our front door and spotted it, laying beside our rocking chair. Indeed, that bird is no more. It has ceased to be. It has kicked the bucket, bought the farm, it’s pushing up daisies. It is an ex-bird.
I have no idea what to do with it.
And so there it remains. Rife with symbolism so obvious it makes me want to punch whoever’s in charge of dropping these metaphoric talismans into our lives squarely in the ethereal jaw for insulting my intelligence with such a ham-handed, amateurish trope. I mean come on, universe — you can do better than that, can’t you?
But what do you do with a dead bird? I honestly don’t know.
Clearly the most important thing is to take a painfully, weirdly gorgeous photo of the birdy corpse, and you've done that. So. Now… um? Bury it? The tiny field mice our cat deposits on our porch are given water burials in our creek. Do you have a creek by chance?
awww, poor thing! We always used to scoop them up with a dust pan and dump them in the trees behind our house. I'm sure you could chuck it in the garbage can, though.
When we lived in the boonies, our cats brought us "gifts" of dead birds and mice on a regular basis. I usually scooped them up into a plastic grocery bag and tossed them in the trash. And, I know this is totally weird, but I always said a little prayer for them before I closed the lid. Yeah. Strange.
Or you could just toss it in your neighbors' bushes and forget about it. That would work too.
The universe might be running out of good material.
But I can see why you feel cheated. When things go awry, how come we can't get something like a snake eating its tail and rolling down the street or a sudden but total eclipse of the sun? A personal favorite is the eagle dropping the wolf cub into the arms of the young Claudius, indicating he was destined to be emperor. I've never really craved the birth of an albino water buffalo, although that's popular in some quarters but that is preferable to what I usually get–usually a flat tire or an influx of water bugs in the closet.
As for the bird, take one of those plastic grocery bags and pick it up and put it a paper bag and then bury it in the backyard? Or you can just throw it away. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone that reads bird entrails or I'd suggest that…
When I was a kid, my sister and I found a dead bird out behind our play house. We buried it there, and placed a scrap of wood with the words 'Darling Starling' written on top of the grave. It's one of my most vivid memories. (Oddly, when a frog died in the same-ish spot, we just watched it rot away into pale frog bones).
Oh! And I just remembered: when I was in high school, a friend's mom found a dead bird, and, not sure what to do with it, wrapped it in tin foil and stuck it in the freezer. A week or so later, my friend went looking for a snack, and *thought* she'd found a wrapped slice of leftover birthday cake. But when she unwrapped it… well, you get the idea. So, don't do that.
So yeah. There's your three options: burial, gruesome science experiment, or birthday cake surprise.
I bury my metaphoric talismans in the backyard, under the rose bushes. And I almost always cry a little bit.
We usually bury them. Although I suspect less sentimental folks just toss them into the bushes or the trash can.
If the bird means a lot to you, I say bury him. If not, I would probably just throw him in the trash after ushering many apologies.
Stupid universe…
but the whole situation gave you a chance to reference the Dead Parrot Sketch, and for that, I am thankful.
No, the universe can't do any better. Don't get me started on the bird imagery. Jesus, I could write a book.
if you are an artist you take the poor thing, light it with a soft white light and draw it as a reference and show it to your traumatized students (along with the hapless model).
If you are my mom, and have a grudge against the the neighbors you grab it by the wing and fling it over the fence for them to deal with…
I guess I'm not much help here….
You deal with it in the same way you've dealt with any of the previous dead critters that have found themselves deceased in your presence. Weird how something you might have thought of as lovely is more difficult to just discard, yes?
What you WON'T do is nail his tiny little feet to a perch and pretend he's just pining for the fjords.
You could cook him.
I was going to say trash can, but Schmutzie put her dead pet bird out in an area accessible to animals and creatures that take care of corpses, and I liked that idea.
I use a quart-sized yogurt container to scoop up smaller birds (the lid makes a nice coaxer, and then of course a nice sealer). I use an empty cereal box (and another small piece of cardboard to be the coaxer) for larger birds.
I can't believe I have advice on this topic.
Oh, and also: I'd do it SOON, because soon it will be rife with things grosser than symbolism. The universe doesn't follow through with its metaphors very prettily.
You make your own talisman. Bury him with a blessing next to a new planting. Every ending nurtures new beginnings.
I would bury it. But I'm sentimental that way. I used to bring home a lot of baby birds that were thrown from the nest when I was little and in the 'burbs. None made it, there were lots of burials in my neck of the woods.
I have buried them, too.
see, I can't give you any advice about the bird because it will all sound like it's dripping with metaphor.
scoop it into the trash and forget about it? harsh.
scoop it and place it in a corner of your yard where nature can do its work decomposing it? nihilistic.
give it a proper burial complete with mourning? dramatic.
even the fact that I would never advise touching it at all sounds doomy!
gah! goddamn you English BA! we'll never get the dead bird off the porch now! this metaphor is a ball and chain! shit, there's another one! 😉
I thought I had the answer until I read Kelly's response.
Get some Dookie Rope and string it around your neck. It's no albatross, but it may be the best you can do . . .
(I'm new here, thanks to a nudge from a friend.)
Trash can, unless you've got some sort of weird illness attacking birds around. Then you call Animal Control, because they or Fish & Game will want to examine it.
If you bury it, something else, like a cat will dig it up. Yech.
Would make a funny hand puppet. kind of looks like heckle from heckle and jeckle. I'm old… Great blog and playlist btw. I worked on that Peacebone video. Good stuff… Peace.