Dead thing

I was walking through my neighborhood and my mood was merely adequate. I was, after all, headed towards work. But on the plus side the temperature was poking its head above 30 degrees for the first time in weeks, and, though ice had fallen overnight, it was later covered with a modest layer of snow that provided some traction for walking.

Then I saw something in the distance, on my path ahead of me. I thought it was a dead bird. Yes, as I drew closer it was definitely a dead bird. Was it a crow? No, with each step more was revealed. It looked like it was maybe one of those fancy woodpeckers we get, black and white with a red head. What happened? What brought such a grand and lively bird down? In lifelessness its feathers were wet and smeared across its body in a strange, flat pattern. It lay three quarters out of the shallow, wet snow. As I began to approach it closely I turned my head away. I was not sure I wanted to take in the sad grisly sight. There is enough death already to see in winter, on the streets and in the border woods of my city.

At the last minute I couldn't resist and decided to take a look. 

It wasn't a woodpecker. It wasn't a bird at all. It was just a rolled up newspaper.

Well, I guess they're not doing so great either.