Saturday Morning

When I walked by the elderly high-rise I noticed a dead pigeon on the bench under the cherry tree and it was missing its head. I started to walk away when I imagined someone else experiencing the horror so I turned around and found D the cook taking a break. I told her about the pigeon.

"Who would do that?"

"A hawk. They live over there in the trees above Oak Hill. Sometimes you can hear them. We've had this happen in our yard before."

"Oh, I thought it was because of Halloween. But why wouldn't the hawk take the whole bird?"

"He probably swooped in and picked up the bird by the head, its neck broke and he dropped and fell through the tree. Do you have a maintenance man we can call?"

"He's gone for the weekend."

"Okay, I'll do it. Do you have a bag and gloves?" 

She went into the kitchen and came out with a huge black plastic trash bag and a pair of beige latex gloves and I bagged the bird and tied a knot. "Let's take it to the dumpster so it doesn't stink up the parking lot in these little trash cans."  

"It's great to see you again, even if it is bonding over a headless pigeon," I said, laughing.