Today Carson & Daddy spent the morning together while I worked. They did manly bonding stuff, like wrestling, changing tires, zooming motorcycles. Apparently in the midst of this fun filled time, Daddy heard a familiar, morbid "thud" against the front picture window. Hoping that his ears were wrong, Daddy picked Carson up and looked outside to investigate the possibility of another avian victim. Unfortunately, our reflective window just tricked another naive bird into thinking he was flying into a glorious green forest, only to be savagely squashed. Gasping for air and shuddering from shock and pain, our little feathered friend squatted on the damp bark dust hoping for a second chance.
Daddy and Carson were so entranced by the wounded bird and his fight for life that neither of them noticed the perfectly poised predator nearby, ready to pounce on his poor prey. Just as the lion waits for the wounded wildebeest, our very own sweet, yet hungry house cat Harley, could not resist his instincts. Daddy saw the flick of a furry tail in his peripheral vision. He raced to open the window and scare Harley away to give the poor bird a few more minutes to recover and fly away. Only the plan backfired and spurred Harley into action. In just three short seconds, Harely hoovered up the bird. Carson turned to Daddy and raised both hands in the air as if to say, "What happened? Where'd the birdie go?"
In all of the sign language we have taught our yet-to-be-verbal son, there is just no sign for "Survival of the Fittest".