lafayette compound 008



(I know that sound.)


I replayed it in my head.

I turned to look through the sliding glass door leading to my patio.

Six months ago as an early spring increased the quail community outside my yard and the cactus wrens and mockers and squawkers, the rabbits and lizards repopulated themselves, I cleared my head of winter grey and focused again on my favorite time of year, Though I live in the desert the changing seasons continue to have its affect; this was a day of new beginnings.

I was having breakfast as I recall, not on the patio yet, the mornings were still a bit crisp, but fully engaged in the process. I was watching the social events taking place, watching it all from my breakfast table. I could hear a peacock from a block away, wondering if this was the noisy fellow who had recently been starting his morning rounds by splattering green gooey stuff on the hood of my Chevy truck. Not that I was an actual target understand, but he seemed to be fancying the date palm near my parking spot as his new locale for performing his morning toilet.

As I bit from one of the cinnamon rolls I had prepared the night before, I noticed one of the quail families out for their morning walk. As I reached for my camera I was noticed by at least two members of this group but their reactions were quite the opposite of each other. Mother, who was at the front, led her chicks into the safety of the oleanders. At exactly the same time the chick bringing up the rear of this procession turned to look my way. Curiosity won out over alarm and little Chickee Kid ran, no, sprinted the twenty feet from the perimeter of my yard to my patio. Scale speed would had to have been in the hundreds of miles per hour. Reaching the edge of the patio the four inch elevation slowed this little bird not at all. With the reflexes of a jungle cat our little scamp hopped upward and forward again without hesitation, continuing to bolt in my direction until he at last met his reflection in the patio door.


About face.

Sprint back to Mother.

Disappear quickly beneath the oleanders.

All of this activity took mere seconds.

No, I did not take pictures.

But there is a video in my head and an audio recording of the moment when Baby hit the glass.


I replayed it in my head.

I turned to look through the sliding glass door leading to my patio.

There, lying on its back was an adult male house finch.

I walked out to visit my careless neighbor.

I talked with this neighbor of mine; his feathers displayed a splash of red, coincidentally the color of blood.

I watched this fellow traveler as he shrugged his shoulders and died.

I planted him in the oleanders.

ee Broom


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s