My neighbors had two lovely little birds that they kept outside. I couldn’t begin to guess what kind — I never saw them up close — but not the squawky kind. They sang and twittered, and wolf-whistled at me when I got out of my car, which I found particularly endearing.
Other outdoor birds would often land near them, mourning doves and wrens. I’d see them sitting in the hanging baskets and laugh at them having a chat, like it was tea time.
And someone stole them. The woman came out one morning and their blanket was off, and they were gone. Part of me hopes that it was just some drunk who wanted to play with them and accidentally let them go — but that’s not really likely is it?
It breaks my heart. I don’t understand why people are so hateful, and I stupidly keep wishing they’ll come back.