where did all the dead birds go?

Last night, as we stared at the Empire State Building from the window of a cab, I began to wonder why it was lit up in green, yellow, and blue. So, being the technological wiz that I am, I googled it. Did you know there was an entire website dedicated ONLY to the Empire State Building's colors? We learned that the Empire State Building changes colors NOT ONLY for Independence Day, but also for Caribbean Week (blue, yellow, and green), National Muslim Voices Day (green, green, green), Asia Week (also, green green green), and the Westminster Dog Show (purple and yellow). In fact, it's gone from changing colors a few times a year to changing colors regularly. People must line up to promote their event/nationality/thesis topic via ESB colors.

A note at the bottom of the page did mention that the lights were turned off completely from the 86th floor up during periods of "high bird migration."

So, G has been wondering now for something close to two months (I mean, the question initially started in Panama, when we saw what looked to be a dead vulture on the ground) where birds go when they die. If you think about it, it really is a perplexing question, some would say even a conundrum, given that there must be a bajillion birds in just New York alone and yet we don't see more than one or two in a given month. That sounds like the start of a children's book, right? Where Did All the Dead Birds Go and other questions. Right. When we conducted a highly scientific survey of "Who Has Seen Dead Birds Lately?" in the cab last night, I was the only one who'd seen a dead bird within the month (I lucked out and saw one two days ago on the way to work - a pigeon tragically face-up with its little pigeon feet curled up, in a puddle). K had seen one, she didn't remember where, but she knew she'd seen it. M had seen one too, in a situation similar to K:

"I think I saw one, like right outside my apartment," shared M.
"When?" asked G.
"Like, two weeks ago?"
"That was two weeks ago. That is ONE."

We started positing theories as to why birds weren't laying dead all over the place. M proposed that maybe their rate of decay is much quicker as they're "exposed to the elements," elements naturally including the NY rat population. G shut this one down, citing the fact that she was not searching for answers about avian body mass but instead avian resting places.

I said that I thought the street cleaners got them all in the magic of the dawn.

"G, have you ever been up at 4:30 AM?"
"Yes."
"Lately? In NY?"
"Ok, no..."
"So there you go. You just don't see them. But they're there, and I bet if you asked them, they clean up the birds. Millions of them."

M and K concurred with me about the street cleaners, but G wasn't convinced. M asked G if she wanted to contract avian flu, and when G adamantly denied this, M reasoned that the street cleaners were simply doing their jobs SO WELL that G should be thankful instead of skeptical.

"I think they probably go to the park and die there," suggested K.
"THAT'S WHAT I THINK TOO!" exclaimed G.

So, we all eventually agreed that the real reason no one sees dead birds, at least in NY, is because they all sense they're dying with their little birdie sixth senses and head to the park to die. That made us all a little sad, albeit a little impressed with this avian preemptive action regarding death.

M - "Kinda like cats."
Me - "Kinda like old ladies, right? Or old ladies with cats?"
K - "No, the cats just eat their faces, that's the thing."
Me - "Oh, gross."
K - "Yeah. Remember that "Sex and the City" episode where Carrie is scared she's going to get old and the cats are going to eat her?"
Me - "No."

G noted that even though she wasn't fully convinced, it would be rather hellish for there to be dead birds lining the street every day. This got us back on our delightful dinner conversation track about what designer hell would look like. What is designer hell, you may ask? Well. Designer hell is the term for your own personal hell. Designer here does not carry connotations of happiness and priciness. It does continue to promote exact fit.

For example, K's designer hell includes the state of Virginia (she hates it, especially Charlottesville), retail (especially working the floor), dead birds (see above paragraphs), and making out with Spencer Pratt. We learned this all piece-by-piece over Brazilian food. Which, of course, led to countless would-you-rathers.

"So, would you rather live in Virginia, or work in retail?"
Virginia, but not Charlottesville.

"Live in Virginia, selling retail, or make out with Spencer Pratt for the rest of your life?"
Live in Virginia, selling retail; that deal becomes a little hairier when it is complicated with "at the Roanoke Mall" or "at the Charlottesville shopping complex."