Dropping in

I looked out the back door window before letting the dogs out this morning. I saw a black spot near the fence and decided I should probably investigate before letting my little monsters loose to drag whatever it was up to the door or in the house.

It was a dead crow. It didn't look like it'd been gone for very long. It was glossy blue-black and about a foot or so long. It's little eyes were only just starting to turn a milky white.

I knew I couldn't leave it out there. My dogs, not sharing my feelings about all things dead, would gnaw on this bird, possibly breaking it up and carrying the pieces around before rolling around on what was left. This was not an option for me.

I looked to my neighbors' yards. Could I toss it over the fence without anyone seeing me? I quickly dashed this thought. All of our neighbors have dogs, who would react much the same way mine would, I'm sure. Also, I felt guilty about making this bird someone else's responsibility, or giving someone else the chance not to care about it. It fell out of the sky in my yard. It was here for me to deal with and I would.

For a minute I wondered if it was a bad omen. My mom thinks that ravens are my grandmother, visiting her in the physical world. Owls are my grandfather. That this bird had died in my yard, and it was the kind of bird my mom favors, didn't seem to bode well. Then it occured to me that maybe it was in my yard for that very reason. Of the people in the area, I alone would give it the dignity it deserved. I know it sounds like I was being awfully self-important, but I don't do well with dead things and was probably just steeling myself for what I knew I had to do.

I went to the garage and got out my big shovel. It hadn't done much good against the ice on the driveway, but I knew it was perfect for this task. Luckily, the it had rained all last night, so the ground was soft and easy to turn. I dug a hole about a foot wide and a foot and a half long.

Using the shovel, I tried to pick the bird up, but it kept slipping off so I ended up rolling it into its grave.

I felt bad as I pushed the dirt onto it's small, inky body. This being that had existed almost solely in the air was to spend the rest of time encased in earth. But the dirt was soft, and it smelled like rain. I said a prayer for it as I tamped down the dirt and hoped that, when the time came, someone would say a prayer for me, too.