I cannot tell a lie. I let the trapped bird fly.

For a few days now, I've been tugged to visit the Deserted Village, an abandoned town that dates back to 1825. The few remaining houses are neglected and boarded up since most are falling apart. Regardless, the history surrounding the town is a spark for the fire of imagination.

I was drawn to one house in particular because the brick foundation and vented windows were photogenic.

The vented window intrigued me. I thought I saw a fleeting motion but I wasn't really sure. This village is known to be haunted... I moved a little closer and then I heard the thud.

A small bird, possibly a tufted titmouse, looked at me through the cloudy pane. I caught my breath because I could see the desperate confusion on its tiny face. I stayed out of sight while the bird flitted to and fro from somewhere within the house. Each time it hit a pane, I heard the awful thud and saw it fall.

The poor thing's going to crack it's skull! What should I do? I couldn't allow this head banging to continue. Moving to another window, I watched as it flew from one side of the house to the other. I envisioned it being trapped forever, a ghostbird flitting between windows, fooled by the sky.

This bird's wild need to live free or die spoke volumes to me so I picked up a brick, said my penance and

quietly celebrated

as it soared high into the trees.


(click on the above links for more pics)