I'm Doomed
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Mourning doves startle easily, and I enjoy hearing their flustered hoots and watching their panicked retreat early each morning when I step out of my home to retrieve the morning papers.
Upon spotting me today, this bird went into motion just like always, but intead of flying to a favorite spot on the roof, it arced into the lawn, twitched a couple times, folded its wings, and died. Its grief-stricken mate sobbed mournfully on a branch above its fallen companion.
What will befall me- a plague of locusts?
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