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my brother came over to the house yesterday, probably to ask what was going on regarding our older brother's birthday tomorrow. when i came downstairs and realized he was there, and waved at him, he said "By the way, there's a dead bird on the lawn."
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mom and i had been watching a baby robin all day. he sat among the plants, or on our stoop, alone and confused and chirping for his parents. i finally went out to him in the afternoon, carrying some thawed blackberries and some hastily-dug worms, but he fled from me, flying strongly onto the tree, and then falling to the ground, and then flying again across the street... where i thought i saw a couple of adults approach him.
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i looked at mom and said "Oh no, not the baby robin!"
and Joey answered "It didn't look like a robin." this raised my hopes until he added "It didn't have any color at all." because the babies are very light, only speckled red.
my heart broke and i said "Oh, NOOOO-oooo."
my brother, earning my semi-everlasting condemnation, echoed me in a taunting tone "Ohhh YE-eeSSSSssssss."
i called him a bastard, and i went out to bury the baby robin.
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the anger left quickly, leaving that cold/betrayed feeling behind.
before i went to bed, i tried to explain to mom why it had hurt, and how much i wished i'd grabbed the baby robin and taken it up to the wildlife rehab people in Pennelville. she held my hand, and said quite seriously "You take these things so hard. You can't save everything and everyone."
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btw, i invite anyone who was considering using "Comments" to lecture me on that topic, rather than send me a big mental hug, to go do something physically challenging to themselves.
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