There I was chatting away to a friend on the phone when I heard a bit of a commotion outside the kitchen window. A bird had got entangled in the sharp sword-like leaves of the Cordyline Tree. It was not the first time I had rescued a small bird from the tree and its spiky leaves. This time, it happened to be the little robin that had kept me company all through the summer. I dashed out but by the time I got to the bird it was already dead. The tiny bird had got caught in the depths of the tree and was cut with the razor sharp leaves. My patience had finally run out. I went to the shed and got a saw. Ten minutes later the tree was gone.
My husband arrived in from work for his lunch a few hours later.
“What’s different?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I said.
The place looks brighter.
I kept rolling out the pastry for the apple tart that I was baking for him. He liked the tree.
Suddenly it hit him. “The tree is gone,” he said.
It wasn’t a shout. It was just an exclamation, a shocked whisper more than anything else.
“But why?” he asked.
”It killed my robin.”
“You cut down the tree because it killed a robin?”
“Yes,” I said. “What sort of tree kills a bird?”
“But you can hardly cut a flower. You keep telling me you’re not able to cut the grass,” he said.
“But I was angry,” I said. “I got some hidden strength.”
“Jeez, Et,” he said, “that was some anger.”
“Yes,” I smiled, as I walked back into the kitchen to finish his apple tart. “And now you know what will happen if I ever catch you with some bird.”