Baby Bird Funerals

My 8 year old daughter and I are visiting some friends and earlier today I was watching after her daughter until she came home from work. The girls were playing happily when they found a baby bird on the ground that had fallen from it's nest. It was still fuzzy and the feathers weren't even formed. It was so sad to see this lifeless creature laying on the ground after it's first attempt to fly or maybe being accidentally pushed out of the nest. 
Pretty soon the neighbor boys were there inspecting the baby bird too. 
Their mother was hollering for them not to touch it while they were hollering back...'we are only using ONE finger'. As if germs and bacteria won't affect you if you just use the ONE finger. I love the logic of children. The girls were screeching at the boys and I was on the porch trying to enjoy the weather and happy for the chance to be outside in semi-quietness so I wasn't exactly thrilled with the bird circus. The boys left for a bit and I breathed a sigh of grateful relief. They soon returned (loudly) with tiny hand rakes, shovels,trowels and various other garden tools. The girls had been trying to move the bird with leaves. 
But the boys? 
They had a plan. 
Pretty soon the bird was scooped up onto a tiny garden shovel and now what to do? The whole thing was getting on my nerves at this point because of the level of noise and the girls bossing the boys and the mother yelling at them and then the boys deciding to chase the girls and then ME with the dead creature on the shovel. I firmly suggested that it might be a good idea to respect nature and show a little more reverence for the birds short life. 

I suggested.....Perhaps we should bury the bird? 

YES. 

They seemed intrigued with this idea and I was intrigued with the idea of them going back home and leaving me to my porch sitting.

I showed them an easy spot to dig and it was done and over with pretty quickly.

I 

just

 wanted

 to 

quietly

sit

on

 the 

porch

ALONE

As much as I appreciate and love children I just wasn't  in the mood. 
You know what I'm talking about. 
I know you do. 
I wasn't raised in a neighborhood and did not raise my grown children in one so it is a challenge for me to have the whole neighborhood show up to play. Some with parents nearby and some with no idea where there parents were. 
Am I supposed to watch these kids? 
Am I responsible for them? 
Can I send them home?
What if they get hurt? 
My nerves were frazzled and I just wanted to watch over my own daughter and her friend. 

I was glad to see they had lost interest once the bird was buried and off they 
went in search of another adventure. 

Ahhhh......solitude....
something to read, a little cranberry juice over ice, a salty snack and I was in business. 

And then suddenly one of the boys was back and before I had a chance to roll my eyes I was reminded of the innocence and the sweetness of even the rowdiest little boy.

Why was he back?

He wanted to mark the grave with his pinwheel.

He pushed the glittery treasure into the earth right next to where he had buried the bird and then stood there for a moment, very quietly with his hands behind his back, 
paying his little boy respects.

It was tender, sacred and oh so sweet and I felt like I just witnessed a baby bird funeral.

And a little boy letting me see a piece of his heart.

Annoyance slipped away and love slipped right into it's place.