88. the hysteria of birds killing birds is not pleasant
feathers of brown birds startled the grass, as they killed one of their flock, they were all hopping mad, a somersault bowled over & flattened, it takes a huge effort to kill a life, even for a flock that size, the injured one turns over & over like paper, to the stab of sharp beaks & rock cold sets of eyes, they sounded like gulls, louise said 'drive on, they know what they're doing', later, an indian mynah on its back, its bowels passing green fluid on the faint tan feather, its claws thrown up like stems, claiming the air directly above them, i could not tell whether the flock was hysterical or distressed, the sound of the brown birds was very loud, louder than the traffic, i felt messed up inside, as my chest turned to dry grass & blew into flame, should i have stopped to save the bird?, to nurse its small & dying head?, birds die so quickly in our hands, once placed in shoe boxes they die alone, it must be like dying in a coffin for them, the hysteria of birds killing birds is not pleasant, should we have stopped it? |
