Driving to church a couple of Sundays ago, a young starling flew in front of me and met its maker in a puff of black feathers.
Later in the day driving home from a Mother’s Day dinner…
Me: I hit a bird in your car this morning.
Laura: Oh no! Did you hurt it?
Me: Only for a second.
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Did you put the bird’s name in the prayer booh?
I’m afraid not. “Dumb dead bird” might have raised some eyebrows from other prayer book inscribers.