Mother Flicker! That Was a Friday. Returning To My Naturalist Roots In Prayer for Maude. Bless That Animal.

The crash came at 5 a.m.

I was sound to sleep with another hour to go when I heard the bang. I jumped out of bed and looked around the room but nothing had fallen. I though, 'Oh, Shit. Glamis fell through the bay window.'

I looked outside, but all I could see was a pile of something and several song sparrows investigating the scene from the sidewalk with their stink eye. The eyes are on the sparrow. They knew something was up, and I figured a bird hit the window during the a.m. morning feast. I hoped not, but I soon realized it was true. It was a Northern Flicker, a kind of woodpecker, and I instantly had remorse. I love my woodpeckers and they've been entertaining my front and back yards for years.

I didn't want it to be true, but it was. While Chitunga ate his buttered bagel and Abu took a shower, I went out front to investigate more. He was beautiful. She was beautiful. I'm guessing a male, but I couldn't make the identification. I only knew I wanted him or her to be buried before the flies came.

I found a shoe box and then proceeded to make a bed of leaves and grass for the creature (my window did this). I also picked flowers and laid them on top of the bird in the shoebox. It was so beautiful and still fresh from the death. When I zoomed in the photo, I notice how long the bird's tongue actually was. It must be how they pull insects from the trees and I thought, "Phew. Nature is beautiful. I also noticed the eyes were x'd out like a Warner Brothers cartoon.

I began Aretha Franklin's, "I'll say a little prayer for you." I then closed the box and said a few more prayers for the tiny critter. I walked to my Subaru, Hulk, and placed the box in the back by my computer and a container of M&Ms I bought for the teachers. I reentered my house and didn't say a thing; instead, I spent my morning in silence and mini-prayer.

"Bless that Animal," I said under my breath, recalling Kirsten's prayer every time we passed road kill in our adolescent and college lives. She always looked for animals on the side of the road and I loved this about her. She would always offer them a spirited chant as we passed.

We drove to work. I didn't say anything, because my mind was on the bird, the inevitability of it all, and the tragedy that happens out of the blue. This is one of God's creatures and it's a stunning, ornithologist dream. I know Downies and Piliated, but I've always been fond of the Northern Flickers. I wondered what he (maybe she, but I'm guessing he) was doing when hitting the glass....a moment of distraction...a chase of a particularly delicious bug, a run from a hawk in pursuit of its own tasty toast. I don't know. The bang woke me up and I wanted to lay it to rest.

The casket came to work with me. Dodging morning traffic I continued my look to the sky, wishing the feathered phenomenon well.

Abu left the car and walked ahead of me. I still didn't say a thing, but carried the box in my right arm as I holsted my computer bag on my right shoulder. Abu entered Donnarumma Ding Dong, and I proceeded to the right by the large garbage bins.

"Bless that animal," I said, leaving him in an empty green canister. "I'm sure this isn't the way you wanted to go, but it's the best I could do."

And that's the way the morning began.