We, The Captain, The Colonel and I, were driving back home one day, not that long ago when we passed a newly sown lawn. Dotted around the edge were multiple wooden stakes with numerous plastic bags attached to them. Blowing in the wind. Rustling for all they were worth.
“What are the carrier bags for Mum?” Asks The Captain, pulling himself up to the back of my driver’s seat.
“The gardeners use them to stop the birds from stealing the seeds and damaging the new grass when it begins to grow,” I replied.
There was a pregnant pause as he leant back into his own chair, the cogs turning as he considered the answer he was given. Suddenly the penny dropped and he sat bolt upright and screeched,
“ … So you mean they use the plastic bags to suffocate the birds? …
Not quite child of my loins, not quite.
The mind of an Asperger’s teen is a wondrous thing … unless you are a bird … living in their garden.