When I was little, maybe 4 or 5, we lived on a farm of sorts where there had been animals buried over the years. I recall my older brother and I exploring out under a tree in the field behind our house and finding a mummified cat. I'll never forget what it looked like. Not because it was gross (which it probably was) but because it was so cool that we found a MUMMIFIED cat. It wasn't just dead. It was mummified. That was cool.
I suppose all children are curious when they see a dead animal.
So I can't say I was surprised when a gaggle of children made their way in my front door saying, "Look, Anthony's Mom! Look what we found!" Oh dear.
One of the girls held in her hand a small humming bird with it's head bashed in. Ack.
"Wow, you guys...."
"Mom, touch it. You have to touch it!"
"Umm, no. Dead animals--wild animals--sometimes carry diseases. I think you need to go find a loose patch of dirt in the park and bury it. And then you need to go right home and wash your hands. Anyone who touched it needs to wash their hands with soap and water!"
Much squealing, and trying to pawn the poor dead bird off on someone else took place. And then they all ran off to give it a funeral.
I thought that was fitting for Halloween.