This is no mystery to this murder.
I saw it happen.
I know how it happened.
I made it happen.
This summer, there has been a flock of beautiful little finches in our fence rows. I think this is because my brother has not mowed the pasture surrounding our house, and it is full of thistles, which the finches like.
We've been watching them through the binoculars, and they are so cute, so I had the genius idea of setting some feeders near the house so we could enjoy them up close. When I was buying the feeders, I found a contraption you can hook to your deck. More genius! I put the feeders right outside the french doors off the family room. I put out saucers for water and two planter boxes for color to attract the birds, just like I read on the Internet.
The weather has cooled, the doors are open, the birds sing, I'm knitting. It is perfect.
Then, there is a ruckus on the deck, and I turn to see Toulouse at the screen door with a mouth full of feathers.
I screamed, of course, then cried, then took the feeders down, because they had gone from a beautiful little project to bait for our cat.
Yesterday, finches came and perched on the deck. I know they were looking for the bird seed, but part of me is wondering if they weren't mourning their fallen friend . . .