The Third Dead Bird

 
While driving to work earlier today, I came to a country road where a considerable gathering of birds were basking gleefully on the warm sun-enriched pavement. Hoping they would scatter and fly out of my way, as any wise bird usually does, I didn’t touch the brake. Regrettably, halfway through the flock an unlucky fledgling hit the grill of my car. In the rearview mirror, I saw that I had killed it, as it lay limp amidst its more-fortunate community members.

Returning down that road later in the day, the birds had settled again in my way. I drove cautiously this time as not to harm any idle meanderers. I spotted the bird that I had killed, and then saw yet another flattened to the pavement, seemingly by another vehicle reluctant to delay their commute. As if this scene wasn’t arresting enough, I soon after came upon a small cluster of birds, most unwilling to fly away. Finally, at the last possible moment before certain death by vehicular slaughter, they took flight in a flurry of scattering feathers. It was now that I saw what they had been huddled around; a third dead bird… I must have interrupted the funeral.