The other day, I realized it is truely and officially spring. No, it wasn’t the fact that my tulips had flowered or the buds on my lilac tree had arrived. Instead, my moment of zen occurred late at night.

At about midnight, Kevin and I both awoke from a sound sleep and whispered, “do you hear that?” After a moment of silence, the sound came again. It was unmistakable… the pitiful cry of a dying bird. Kevin sighed and rolled out of bed while I covered my eyes before he turned on the light. After sweeping our room and finding no feathered friend, he decended to the main floor and searched. While he didn’t find a bird, he did find both cats curled up on the couch, napping. They may have looked innocent but Kevin wasn’t fooled. With Artie close at his heels, he headed down to the basement to complete the bird sweep. About 10 minutes later, he returned to bed empty handed. Where ever that chirping came from, he couldn’t locate it.

We lay in bed for a while, straining to hear the peeping again but all was silent and eventually we dozed off again… untill 3am when the desperate chirping woke me again. I poked Kevin who, dutiful husband that he is, rolled out of bed and investigated. Again, the kitties where still sleeping on the sofa and no bird was found. I thought perhaps I was hallucinating the whole incident until the next morning.

Artie actually fround the poor thing. What was left of it was lying right below our bedroom window. We couldn’t really tell if it was a bird or not. It no head and all fur/feathers had been artfully removed. In fact, at first glance, it looked like a piece of raw chicken – maybe half a breast or a thigh – ready to be tossed on the BBQ.

We can’t pin this one on our cats but I have my doubts. One thing I’m sure of thought, spring is finally here.