I witnessed a murder today. I’ve been keeping it to myself for the past five minutes because I was afraid for my own life. You know how it is. You go to the authorities to report a crime. The person who committed the crime finds out and next thing you know you wake up with a horse’s head in your bed and find out that someone’s boiled your bunny rabbit … or something like that.
It happened in the backyard. I went out to think because thinking is improved when you get some fresh air to your brain. That’s a very well known fact. Don’t question it. Anyway … I was trying really hard to think when a herd of birds came stampeding into the yard and landed in the tree. They promptly started yelling at each other which ruined any chance I had at getting some good thinking in. I don’t speak bird so I’m not sure what the argument was about, but I’m pretty sure they were just trying to distract me from the events that were about to unfold.
Here’s what I saw from my vantage point which was about two feet away from the scene of the crime. A Monarch butterfly floated gracefully into the yard and landed on a blade of grass. From what I could tell this butterfly was minding his own business. His only crime was flaunting a pair of very nice wings. A wasp, who as obviously jealous, promptly attacked him. I was horrified as the butterfly struggled to survive, but I did nothing. Yes, I just became one of those people. You know those people who witness a terrible crime, but don’t bother to call the police or do anything to intervene. In my defense, I wasn’t in the yard alone. There were those yelling birds and plenty of bees who went on gathering up nectar like nothing was happening.
When it was all over the dead butterfly lay in the grass and the wasp flew off to commit yet another crime. I took some pictures of the dead butterfly because isn’t the what you’re suppose to do? Later, I’ll make a chalk outline around the body for evidence before burying it next to the three baby squirrels I buried a few weeks ago.
Note: Every picture I took of that stinkin’ dead butterfly was out of focus. I think it’s because my hands were still shaking from the horror of what I had just witnessed.