Not quite every day, but quite often on my way to work, I would see a beautiful flamingo like bird rooting around in the ditch that runs along the road leading past my house. Its a fast road, 2 lanes, and pretty much everybody flies along it like they have someplace important to go, mostly because I guess there are relatively few stop lights on it. I would love seeing him there, if only for a few moments, as a reminder of the wildlife that used to call this place home before our area was flooded with all the arrivals from New York and the other northern states.

Now, there is one fewer.

I was out a few minutes ago, on my way to the store, when I saw that familiar flash of shocking pink, but it was not where it belonged, down in the relative safety of the ditch, looking for food. He was lying there, broken, twisted and contorted, on the wrong side of the road. For a moment, I couldn't believe it was him. I turned around and pulled my truck off one of the side streets, and watched for a few moments as the traffic callously filed by at 10- 15 MPH over the speed limit before hopping across the ditch to pull him off the road.

I sat with him in my hands for a few minutes, and straightened his bloody wings against his sides, remembering what he looked like in life: playful, beautiful, so flamboyant in his pink regalia. I looked for him every day. i named him spoon, an obvious choice, I know, but fitting for such a silly bird.

I'm going to miss him.