The Bird

So here I am, sitting at the table in the kitchen, and WHAM! A bird hits out front window. This is a common enough occurrence since we have a fairly large front window, however, this one hit considerably harder than others and made me take notice.I look up to see a billowing cloud of feathers like new fallen snow floating gently downward. Has the bird exploded?! Curiously, I walk to the front door and step outside. The bird is belly up on my front Adirondack chair, bowels have let go and it's twitching. Poor thing! (I'd say "little thing", but this was larger than my hand and it still surprises me that it didn't go through the window) What to do! What to do!
Call Peter.

I tell him my tale of floating feathers and dead feathered friend. I tell of the cartoon like billowing and... why are you laughing! The bird is dead Peter!

(sigh) He tells me to get a shovel and a garbage bag.

Is he crazy?? I'm not touching it. Live turtles, bats, mice, rats, frogs... cats... I'm okay with, but a big dead bird I watched die? That's creeping me out.

Forget that, I'm calling the neighbour.