I knew what it was. A hunk of garbage of some sort; didn’t matter what sort, exactly. Knowing the kind of unexpected bird activity that presented itself in the field—given recent natural suprises like birthday foxes (see earlier post—I was tempted to hope for something more than the trash it undoubtedly was.

 I was tempted to go check. Heck, it would only have cost a minute. But no. I knew how much of a let-down a fast food cup would be. So I let it go. Let it live in my imagination: an amazing chubby bird of impossible red, hunkering down after a tasty bug. Because, sometimes, the thing we hope for is waaaaay better than the thing that is.

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