"Hey, Carl," says Lennie in mid-flight, "let's fly our usual route and--"
"Carl? C'mon, get up. Quit horsin' around. Um...Carl?"
A hard road to fly.
But there're a lotta birds flying the skies. Tons and tons and tons. The math doesn't add up. There should be bird bodies everywhere when their time is up. But...I don't see them. Anywhere.
Now, I know what happens to dogs and cats; their owners take care of them. And some varmints burrow underground to die. Cows and chickens? Best not to dwell on it, particularly for vegans.
But what happens to our feathered friends when their lives end? The earth can't swallow them up that fast. Is there some secret bird graveyard? Does a bird-God swoop 'em up? Is there a jump-suited guy advertising on Craig's List offering bird clean-up services?
Macabre, yes, but these are the sort of questions that keep me up at night.
|CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE!|