I was standing on my balcony on the fourth floor at sundown looking at the squirrels in the trees across the way. It was warm outside and a wind blew towards me from the west. Something caught my eye down below and I squinted to see it. I saw the dark outline of a bird lying motionless on the overhang to the basement door in the back lot. I went and got my binoculars. Looking closely now I saw that the bird was indeed dead and lying on its back there. It was a woodpecker with mostly black feathers and some red and white on its head. The bird had either slammed into the side of the building or else had dropped dead from the sky. I love animals and am often sentimental, so of course I felt sad at the sight and knew I needed to bury it, as I have done other times. I couldn’t just leave it there.

Back inside I grabbed a few composting bags and the key to the back lot and descended the hall staircase. Out back near the fence line, surrounded by mossy trees, I dug a hole in the earth with a stick. It seemed to me like a good place to rest in peace, bird or otherwise. I walked back to the overhang near the basement door and stood on a chair to reach the top. Gingerly I used my bagged hand to grasp the bird’s little body, then stepped down from the chair and held the bird there in my hands. Its feet were clenched tightly and there was nothing behind its half-closed eyes. I did not look too long or I would have gotten emotional about it. I tied the bag closed and walked to the hole I had dug and committed the bird to the deep. Using a small flat rock, I filled in the grave with dirt and moss and set the rock atop the grave. I stood up and gazed down upon the little mound there for a moment, then passed through the far gate and took the stairs back up to my apartment.