It was the early 80’s and I was seven. The neighbor kids were gathered around a makeshift shoebox casket, peering in at a dead brown bird. A funeral procession was made down the street and into the woods. We stopped under a pine tree. The eldest boy there (and one of the first on our street to sport parachute pants) said a few solemn words. A grave was dug and the bird buried.

I remember feeling like I was the only one who was genuinely sad, like the others were only there for the show. And I remember carrying my sadness home, expressing it and getting a LOUDLY worded lecture. That’s when I learned that birds can carry disease.