A Bird In The Tree Is Worth Two In The Bush

(Our office has closed but I have some things to finish. We have a monitor that shows the camera feed to our parking lot. It’s a normal parking lot: a lot of tiles with a few scrawny trees here and there. I suddenly notice on the feed a woman with four kids, digging near one of our trees on the parking lot. I leave my station to go to the caretaker of the building, a retired police officer.)

Me: “Someone is digging at one of our trees.”

Caretaker: “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. You said something about digging?”

Me: “You heard right! Someone is digging at one of our trees.”

(When we walk together to the tree, the mother and children have already left. I pass a coworker who saw very little, but did notice one of the children was crying. The caretaker carefully shuffles in the sand of the tree with his shoe, but sees nothing.)

Me: “Wait, what is that?!”

Caretaker: “Oh, just a feather.”

Me: “No, over there. You just covered it with dirt again. It’s… it’s… a parakeet?! They buried their parakeet here?!”

(I know this block doesn’t have much green, but to bury your passed-away parakeet at the parking lot of an office is beyond my comprehension. We buried the parakeet again, by the way. The tree and the bird will be best buddies.)