Sunday, October 11, 2020

Postcard #166: Free as a Bird

I've always liked the sweetness and simplicity of finches. They can be a little messy but they have some personality and make sweet songs. When they pass on there usually is not much ceremony of fanfare or crying. Just before the pandemic started my last finch past away. I started with 4 when I moved to the West Coast from New Jersey. As time wore on the numbers dwindled. My wife and I shopped for finches several times but never found any we liked. We had a penchant for finches with ill-formed feather formations or a friar's tonsure. The last night I went to feed them the cage was silent. Up in the nest was the tiny bird. Cold, Fragile. Weightless. I tucked the little thing into a cardboard paper towel tube along with some nest bedding, some food, and a tiny bell. Then folded the ends of the tube and buried it outside my property along the fence. It seemed weird to bury it within the cage of my own property.

Sent Via postcrossing to MissMureena.  She said she was cool with homemade cards.  

No comments:

Post a Comment