Phil, they're playing with a dead bird....

One of my most vivid childhood memories is of the day we found the dead crow.

There was a whole gang of us - neighborhood kids whose names I really can't remember now. We hung around outside all day because, well, that's what kids in the 60's did. We played with whatever was around. We built forts and went exploring. We looked for snakes in the field behind our house. I don't think we were ever bored.

One day, we found a not quite alive crow behind our house. By not quite alive, I mean dead. Stiff and cold. Eyes that were gray and glassed over.

So we did what any kids would do - we put the recently deceased crow in someone's old bird cage.

We took Mr. Bird (I'm fairly certain this is what we called him, but the name Batman also rings a bell) all over the neighborhood. Being the animal lover that I was, and still am, I think I wrapped Mr. Bird in a baby blanket. We played records for Mr. Bird. Since some of us were young Catholics, we may have held some sort of funeral mass for him. I'm not really sure about this last one, but I know we did something ceremonial.

Our capers with Mr. Bird went on all day, undisturbed. No grown ups had noticed our new friend. Mr. Bird was very probably beginning to smell when we decided to play in our basement, and bring Mr. Bird along.

I remember a look of panic on my mother's face when she realized just what we had brought into the basement. I remember my father descending the basement stairs and I remember Mr. Bird being taken from us rather quickly and without explanation. I can only hope that Mr. Bird found peace in his final resting place, and that he was not thoughtlessly tossed into our metal trash can.

The subject of Mr. Bird never came up in our house again. We probably caught a snake or dug up some termites the next day and were happy again.

Ah, childhood....