The Bird of authentic Avon

Shakespeare, the real Bard of Avon, came to mind when I added the Shakespearean ruffle, in the form of this wasp nest, underneath my beloved woodpecker skull. The mirrored glass ball with a stem on it had an opening at the top so I think it was for a tea light--would have been quite a different look at a wedding than under parts of a dead bird and stinging flying insect residence. But when you put it all together it looked like one of those outfits with the puffy sleeves and body that the men, at least in the plays, had to wear tights with and get made fun of. This Bird of Avon got lucky because he didn't have arms or legs to begin with, so I used the doll arms and legs that my friend Cori's grandmother had strung many years ago and left in her sewing stuff, which Cori very generously shared with me. Grandma had never gotten around to finishing her doll, so her doll ended up finishing the Bird.

Quick note on the woodpecker skull. My friend John the Brit from law school, a stodgy yet pun-loving British diplomat from my law school days, sent me a picture of a beautiful red-topped black and white woodpecker--with bright yellow feathers under its wings and black polka dots on its white belly feathers!!--that had broken its neck when it flew into his devastatingly clean glass door. As the person who I am, I immediately asked him to put the bird in the freezer. John reluctantly complied, and only because he had an extra freezer in his garage. I intended to get this incredible specimen taxidermied, knowing how creepy this already made me, but learned after a few phone calls that even possessing a dead song bird, which this was classified to be, was illegal. Taxidermying it was more than illegal: I think they give you life in prison, or that is the impression the taxidermists I spoke to gave me. Possibly they hurl you against a glass door. So I kept it in the freezer and watched a few Youtube videos on taxidermy but never took the plunge myself. My friends teased me about the bird in the freezer (Ally, Mallory, I'm looking at you.) After a couple of years I took it out to show Aaron the Artiste and saw that the bright red feathers had faded to brown. With taxidermy now moot, I decided to save the feathers that were still vibrant. Aaron is a authentic scientist and said that in the name of science I could remove its little frozen woodpecker head. So I did, and I boiled it until it became a little white woodpecker skull. Then after hanging out on the kitchen window sill for a while, the pieces of the Bird of Avon started to come together, like the plot of a Shakespeare comedy, or maybe tragedy, that no one understood until the very end. And then, maybe because someone explained it to them in a description not unlike this one, THEY GOT IT.

And yet, by heaven, I think my bird as rare
As any you belied with false compare.
-Sonet 130, adapted