Sparrow Conversation

I've still not gotten used to the newly paved sidewalk that's replaced the grass that used to be across the road from us. I'm pretty sure the local wildlife hasn't gotten used to it either.

In fact, just the other morning, I was looking out the window and noticed two small, brown birds sitting on a building ledge overlooking that concrete slab of a sidewalk. They were nodding their heads in sideways fashion, looking very wise (as little birds tend to do) and apparently deep in conversation. It didn't take much imagination to figure out what they were saying. I strained my ears and caught just a little of it.

Sparrow 1: Wasn't there grass here? Just a couple days ago? I swear there was grass.

Sparrow 2: (a trifle more anxious personality) Well, I thought so. But I do tend to lose my bearings a bit in the city.

Sparrow 1: (snorting a bit derisively) Not I. I was raised in a nest just down the road in the churchyard and I know this place like the back of my wing. There's the sycamore trees, there are those scrubby pine trees, and there are those grape vines by the fence they've stuck vicious barbed wire all over. Yep, yep, yep. I'm sure. I tell you, the GRASS WAS RIGHT THERE. Green as can be.

Sparrow 2: (timidly) It's not green now. Just that awful gray-white. Looks like dirty snow in the middle of August, doesn't it?

Sparrow 1: It's September.

Sparrow 2: ALREADY?

Sparrow 1: Haven't you noticed the school buses? And the orange glow to the moon? And how chilly your feathers feel in the morning?

Sparrow 2: Now that you mention it...

Sparrow 1: What I want to know is where they think we'll go for eats now. I mean, this was the best all you could eat buffet place within blocks. I just faint with hunger thinking of those sweet, juicy little earthworms below-ground, trying to push their heads up through the dark, moist earth, only to bonk their wormy little heads on a big ol' patch of concrete.

Sparrow 2: (tenderly) Almost makes you feel sorry for the poor dears, doesn't it?

Sparrow 1: In a way. I mean, if you think you lose YOUR bearings, think how they must feel. They're probably digging new tunnels like crazy trying to locate the nearest exit.

Sparrow 2: (with a half-cheep, half-sympathetic cluck) And think of the poor little seeds! I was quite looking forward to seeing the new dandelions and clover push their heads up through the soil next spring.

Sparrow 1: You and the rabbits!

(Both sparrows look for a moment at the concrete sidewalk where the lovely green grass used to be. Sparrow 2 sighs.)

Sparrow 1: Kind of makes you want to migrate early, doesn't it?