We have a hawthorn tree near our kitchen window. This time of year, it is bare of leaves, but the red berries are still there. Yesterday, two different flocks of birds invaded the tree, hoping around and eating all the berries. It was fun to watch.
Soon, we heard a loud noise BOOM BOOM BOOM and jumped up to find three little birds on the ground outside our glass front door. Two were sitting, panting but otherwise completely still, and the third was clearly dead, head at an unnatural angle, wing splayed, a bit of blood. Much interest and concern from the boys, observing the birds from such a close range. I had to do a bit of convincing to keep them from getting too close and handling the birds.
There was some speculation that the berries the birds had been eating had intoxicated them and impaired their judgement and flying ability.
Yes, I will shamelessly grasp at any opportunity to illuminate the effects of drugs and alcohol. These sad birds ate the berries and then stupidly flew right into the glass and now they are hurt and one is dead.
My youngest carefully studied the still birds for a bit longer, then looked up at the tree, birds still swarming around the berries, unaware of their fallen friends.
"Mom, are those gangster birds?"