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New Life and Dead Birds

1. My current favorite thing about being Mom to two boys is encountering so many bugs, reptiles, etc.

2. I hate dead birds. By hate, I mean I am terrified of them. I’ve even looked up the “phobia” for that. There isn’t one.

So, we’ve had a bit of both around here lately.

A few weeks ago, we received a new pet from beloved “Uncle Goober.” He (she?) is a painted turtle who now happily swims in D’s fish tank (recently vacated by swordtails…vacated as in gone to the great swimming hole in the sky).

My boys named him. After themselves. Both of their first names, “Turtle” as a middle name and our last name. It took about a week for me to convince them this turtle was destined to have a nickname and I was not committing a cardinal sin by not calling him by all four names.

Then, a lovely robin couple’s eggs hatched. (My mom’s bird book swears the father robins aren’t involved, but ours definitely is. Either that or there is another robin who is VERY interested in this momma and her babies!) They were so kind, building the nest in the bough of a tree, just perfect for us to see into easily!

Soon after, I came home from school to find some new additions to the back yard. One was a fire hydrant (another story for another day, perhaps). The other was a box turtle named Cubit (because a box is like a cube, get it?). I’ll let you guess whether or not the boys named him.

In my kitchen, we have a butterfly cage all ready for our moths to come out of the cocoons. Well, one to come out and one to go ahead and make his already!

Somewhere in the midst of this, The Dad and I exchanged some interesting texts. One involved how the boys all had a nice close-up look at a cardinal’s beak and toes and feathers. You can guess why he didn’t fly away. I was just glad not to be there. The other text went something like this: “Got up, almost stepped on a dead bird. Toes are curled. Had to move the chair.” My darling husband had the grace to ask what kind of bird. As if I were examining it! (By the way, my response was “dead.”)

Anyway, so my enjoyment of all of these creatures is colliding with my fear of dead birds. Those little robins are growing bigger every day…or so I hear. The problem is, I can’t go check on them unless someone else does first. Just in case. Because, you know, I worry about those live birds. They could die at any moment. (And apparently they do in my yard…two in two weeks?!)

It’s possible that I’m a gold mine for some psychological survey.

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