“Aw, look,” Yossarian says, stopping in his tracks to squat down next to a pile of black feathers. “It’s a bird.”

Mikal stops, too, and stands looking over Yossarian’s shoulder. “Is it dead?”

Yossarian picks up a stick and starts poking at the bird. It twitches and squawks. “Nope.” The kid unwraps his scarf from around his neck, lays it flat on the ( Read more... )