Bo Shiva at New Gilead

Walking to class in the morning, I was passing the Romance Languages House, and saw the bird. It was lying in the grass in the front yard, turning its head back and forth, snapping its sharp black beak. A macaw, or a parrot, with bright blue feathers, long on the frosted grass, it looked mechanical, and I approached it. The bird couldn’t move from its place, and regarded me with its black eye. He was silent. I looked around at the students on their way to class, “does anyone know where this bird came from?” They shook their heads. I wanted to touch it, but was wary of the sharp beak and diseases a sick bird might transmit. I continued on to class, and phoned animal control from the office, who told me that they would send an officer to collect the bird.

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