I work at a theatre. In this particular theatre there are many windows. Generally I like windows. Sometimes I hate them. This week I hate them.
Our new costume apprentice bounded out of my crafty shop the other day with a rather surprised look on her face. She wanted to know if I have a pet bird. I should at this moment known it wouldn't end well. No. No pet bird. Long story short, the day ended with a teeny tiny little bird flying into a window looking for freedom and ending up in a shoe box being driven to a wild bird rescue.
It seems a bit ironic. I am a professional milliner. I dig through boxes looking for colorful dead vinage birds to put on hats. I was totally distraught. I drove a half-dead bird halfway across Connecticut to get it to a wild bird rescue. I'm now waiting to get a letter from the nice bird lady to tell me if he made it or not. Based on the look on her face I'm guessing the little bird didn't make it.
Is it totally wrong to ask for the carcass to put on a hat?