Last month, we faced the inevitable challenge of explaining death to our little one for the first time. There were questions, tears, and even a bit of morbid curiosity involving a motionless bird.
In front of our house, we have a large picture window - perfect for spying on the neighbors, but also for watching the wildlife that visits our yard. On a whim, I set up a small flower garden and bird bath below the window so my son, could enjoy the sight of birds stopping by for a splash.
One afternoon, we noticed a bird - probably a robin, a dove, or maybe even a parrot (I’m not exactly a bird expert) - having the time of its life in the bird bath. It was a nice break from the usual worm-hunting routine.
However, I had neglected to change the water for a few days, and I can’t vouch for its cleanliness. About an hour later, our feathered friend was looking a bit wobbly, as if he’d downed one too many shots of tequila at the birdie bar. He flapped and flopped to the ground, started bumping into the side of the house, and wandered around in a daze, pecking aimlessly at the concrete. It was clear he was about to take his final flight to the big bird’s nest in the sky.
Sure enough, the next time my son looked out the window, our little bird was lying motionless on the ground. He excitedly called out, “Daddy, the birdie is sleeping!” Well, if it was sleeping, it wasn’t a peaceful nap - those flies buzzing around would’ve woken anyone up. Just saying.
Armed with a plastic bag and a long stick, we ventured outside to check on Tweedle Dee. I gave him a gentle poke to ensure he was truly gone - after all, the last thing I needed was a surprise attack from a half-dead bird. As my son watched, I explained as simply as I could that our little friend had gotten sick and died. I tried my best to put it in terms a four-year-old could understand: “We all get old and die… He’s with his bird friends now… Maybe he just ate a bad worm…”
But how do you really explain death to a child? His questions tugged at my heart. “But Daddy, his eyes are still open! He’ll wake up soon and fly away! This makes me so sad—I just want him to take a bath again.”
As he watched, with tears in his eyes, I placed the bird in a plastic bag. He clung to his mom, crying his little heart out, confused about how the bird could have gone from lively to lifeless in just an hour. We gave the bird a proper send-off in the garbage can, said a little prayer, and I explained that because one bird had passed, new baby birds would be born to take its place. It’s the circle of life—just like in The Lion King.
It was a tough afternoon, but one I’ll always treasure. Even through his tears, I could see how big his heart was. He truly cared about that little bird.
And in true little boy fashion, as the sadness started to fade, he looked up at me and asked, “Daddy, can I have mac and cheese for lunch?”
Photography credit: Jeremy Padgett
