Was jolted awake this morning by a loud “thwack,” the telltale sound of a bird hitting a window somewhere in the house. Happens fairly often so I didn’t go to investigate, but as I headed out the back door for my morning walk there he was, prostrate at the foot of the steps, looking for all the world like he’d stopped for a breather and was enjoying soaking up the morning sun.
But not so. Poor Polly had met his match, window 1, parrot 0, in fact parrot -1. There wasn’t a mark on him, and as sad as it was to see such a lovely creature meet his demise in such an undignified manner, I couldn’t help but bring the Monty Python parrot sketch to mind.
“That parrot is definitely deceased.”
“No, no, he’s not dead, he’s restin’!”
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