It was early morning, light but not yet daylight. I had signed the lease on the new house the day before and wasn't especially happy. In the early morning I left the house where we had been living and walked the few blocks to the new place just to suss out the area. There I met the Bird Lady.
She was standing there, calling. What are you doing, I asked? I am feeding the kookaburras, she said, holding out the meat in her hand. I feed them all, but the kookaburras are my favourite. As I watched, the birds came. I walked on, feeling happier.
Over the next few years, I saw her often in the early morning. We chatted. Never personal stuff, just about the birds.Then, one day, the street filled with police and emergency vehicles. I was in a hurry, so didn't stop Later, I learned that she had been bashed.
A neighbour that I knew gave me a little information about her condition. She never came back, and only today I really learned a little more. They, I'm assuming that it was a they, came at her with some form of knife. Apart from severe head injuries, she was cut in the arm, her thumb was cut off, a finger was almost cut off and then had to be amputated. This put her into long term rehabilitation.
You can understand why she did not want to come to Daceyville. Would you?
We still don't know who hurt her. The kookaburras are gone. Its all very sad.
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2 comments:
That's a horrible story as you say Jim. I can only hope that you've altered your morning walks to avoid any such possibility.
kvd
It is a horrible story, kvd. Changing routes mightn't help, tho. She was bashed on her front porch.
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