Bird Funeral  from Act III

By Elizabeth Aharonian Moon

 ---It's dead.

---No, maybe it's just sleeping. Look how it's laying flat on the grass.

---Birds don't do that. When they sleep they put their head under their wing. That's how my grandmother's canary sleeps. And she covers his cage first so he'll think it's night. His name is Dickie..

---So, if it's dead we should bury it. Or burn it. They did that with my grandpa.

---But we don't have a shovel or a box. And we don't have matches.

The children were walking home from school; it was lunch hour and though one parent or another drove them to school in the early morning, it was “good exercise” to walk home in “the fresh air” at noon. No one ever stayed in school for lunch, and if someone did, it was because the mother worked—at the hardware store, or at the hospital. All other mothers were home, doing the laundry, making a casserole for supper, changing sheets.

---We could use the heels of our shoes to dig the hole—it doesn't have to be big or really deep.

---Then we could cover it with weeds or some dandelions.

---Does it need a stone? Or a cross like in the cemetery near the park downtown?

---We could just use a rock or two twigs maybe. Or both.

The children dug with their heels and soon a mound of dirt grew at either end of the hole. Making extra room for the bird's stiff legs, they lay it gently in the hole and covered it with dirt, patting it down firmly with the soles of their shoes.

---I know. We should sing a song, or I don't know, say a prayer.

--What song? What prayer?

---We could say The Pledge of Allegiance.

---Or I could sing What a friend we have in Jesus. I learned part of that in Sunday School.

---I remember at my grandpa’s funeral, they waved perfume up and down the aisles. It smelled like my father after he shaved.

---Let's just say good bye.

---And bow our heads.

---Good-bye, bird. Good-bye.

They walked the rest of the way home quickly, wondering out loud about the bird's family and how it would get along without him. Or, they wondered, what if it was a -her? How would they get along without her? When they turned the corner onto their street, they saw their mothers, right there at the curb, hands planted firmly on their hips, lips pursed, feet tapping.

---Where were you? What were you doing? What took you so long? Their voices rose like a chorus of two.

---We weren't doing anything. Can I have a peanut butter and jelly?

--- We just walked slow. Can I have soup? Chicken noodle, maybe, or chicken and stars?