5/4/2020
Dear Bird,
I confess that your family’s presence here in the city is more than a little shocking.
Last week, during an early morning walk with Becky, I saw what must be a cousin of yours in the side yard of a house two blocks down. A few weeks before that, I drove past another one on Woodrow Wilson St. right by the on-ramp to John C. Lodge Freeway. And then back before Christmas, one of your clan spent the better part of a day back in the weeds behind our duplex.
Yesterday, when I was taking a long Sunday afternoon stroll, I saw you. You were strolling too--through the houseless corner lot at Linwood and Gladstone. I can’t say it was an empty lot because a thriving dandelion empire occupied the space, and a good number of violet villages were in residence as well. Anyhow, you were promenading through the dandelion domain as though you rule it. Perhaps you do. You certainly look like royalty: dazzling in your deep burgundy and iridescent navy headdress. Your carriage is absolutely regal, and your tail feathers long and lordly. (A peacock’s got nothing on you, in my opinion.)
I was quite awed by you and wanted to approach you and offer my regards in person, but it seems that you were anxious to avoid me. I know you saw me because I watched as you dropped your imperial posture, flattened yourself into the grasses, and scurried behind a rotting stump, making sure to keep it between us as I walked past. I understand, of course, that a noble pheasant such as yourself can’t be associating with mere peasants like me. Still, I wanted to express my admiration of your beauty and gratitude for your presence here among us. I trust this letter will find its way to you and will sufficiently convey the sincerity of my praise and my best wishes for your health and well-being.
May you live long and may your tribe increase.
Humbly,
Miriam
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| The pheasant himself (and his tree stump) |
