Once upon a time there was a finch named Floyd. He had just found a mate, a beautiful finch, named Ella. Floyd built a wonderful nest made of the softest down, brightest paper, and smoothest branches that he could find. He wanted to make things just right for his new bride and the family they were about to have. Every day, Floyd went into the big city to bring home food for the babies and goodies for the nest, while Ella sat at home preening her feathers. Living next door was an obnoxious, showy, loud mouth blue jay named Rámon. But Floyd didn't pay him any mind because well, he was an obnoxious blue jay.After a long day foraging, all Floyd wanted to do was come home to his his family. When he arrived home the nest was empty and a letter taped to a branch.
Dear Floyd,
Rámon and I are going south and I'm taking the kids with me. Sorry Floyd, you are a boring and plain finch. I don't love you anymore.
Ella
Floyd was distraught. He took some shiny fishing line that he had been saving for Ella and tied a noose. Floyd then flew to the nearest intersection and tied the line to a stop light and jumped.
" Good Bye, cruel world."
Poor Floyd.
I pass by Floyd everyday on my way to pick up Katie and her friend, Anna, from school. He hung himself on the intersection of Wilson Way and Fremont Street. If you don't believe me, go drive by and take a look. Katie and Anna noticed him over a year ago. It was so bizarre to see a bird hanging from a stop light, that we had to make up a story. Hence, the story of Floyd was born. Can you imagine one day if someone was driving by, had their sunroof opened and the noose broke and Floyds' mummified body fell into the drivers lap?
Dear Floyd,
Rámon and I are going south and I'm taking the kids with me. Sorry Floyd, you are a boring and plain finch. I don't love you anymore.
Ella
Floyd was distraught. He took some shiny fishing line that he had been saving for Ella and tied a noose. Floyd then flew to the nearest intersection and tied the line to a stop light and jumped.
" Good Bye, cruel world."
Poor Floyd.
I pass by Floyd everyday on my way to pick up Katie and her friend, Anna, from school. He hung himself on the intersection of Wilson Way and Fremont Street. If you don't believe me, go drive by and take a look. Katie and Anna noticed him over a year ago. It was so bizarre to see a bird hanging from a stop light, that we had to make up a story. Hence, the story of Floyd was born. Can you imagine one day if someone was driving by, had their sunroof opened and the noose broke and Floyds' mummified body fell into the drivers lap?




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