When I was five years old, my family lived in a little, yellow house across from a Catholic Church and private school. The house had a large yard with a miniature grove of trees and a dilapidated house that had been gutted. As a child I enjoyed playing in the backyard very much.
My sister and I would swim in the above ground pool in the summer and then roll around in the hot mud that surrounded the pool just to jump back into the cool water again. My dad had built a giant swing set in the back and managed to get his hands on more play ground equipment so my sister and I would spend hours climbing all over the metal bars.
The gutted house on the property, we rarely went inside. We were told not too but occasionally I’d find myself in there. We had a malamute-wolf mix that would drag me in there on occasion. I would sit and comb his fur until he fell asleep and then sneak out.
It was a magical place for me as a kid. I loved that yard a lot. Especially the trees. I spent a lot of my time just hanging in the trees (and eating berries). One warm Autumn day I was shifting through the leaves under the grove of trees and came across a giant, black crow.
I became so excited! I loved crows and how could I be so lucky as to have someone toss a stuffed one over the fence and into the leaves. I was very happy with my new toy. I played with it the entire day, carrying it under my arm. When the sun started to fall I made my way to the kitchen door.
My mom was at the little gas stove near the door as I walked through it and she stopped me cold.
“Wait, what is that!?”
“Somebody threw this toy over the fence, here, take a look.”
I handed her my “toy” and when she put her hands on it she shuddered in disgust.
“Oh my god, it’s not a toy!” She shrieked as she tossed it in the air.
It hit the floor. I bent to scoop it back up, very confused.
“No! Don’t touch it! It’s dirty!”
She then grabbed a kitchen towel and picked it up while she headed through the door. I trailed behind her alarmed and starting to feel upset. She dumped the bird into the trash can.
“No!!! It’s stuffed mom!” I whined to her.
“Nope, that is a dead bird! When things die they go stiff! Did you just pick it up?”
“No,” I sniffled, “I’ve been playing with it all day, I want it back.”
“You can’t have it, it will start getting mushy soon. Do NOT pull that thing out of the trash.”
We walked back to the kitchen and when I got inside, I took a bath.
And there we have it, the time I spent all day playing with a dead animal and not even knowing it.
MARCH 2021