Situation: I was driving my grandson, Barrett, age 9, to town. As we were coming up to our neighbor’s ranch, Barrett saw a large number of buzzards circling… Barrett’s a city boy but he has spent lots of time with us on the ranch, so he knows buzzards are part of “God’s clean up crew.” So… I didn’t hesitate more than a second or two before answering his question~
Barrett: “Grandma, why are all those buzzards circling over there?”
Me: “There is a dead cow in our neighbor’s pasture. It’s been there for a couple of days. I don’t know why they haven’t moved it.”
Barrett: “Can I see it?”
Me: “Well, sure. We’ll pass by it. You can see it from the street.”
A minute or two later, I pointed. “There it is.”
Barrett: “Ewww… Why are the buzzards eating its butt?”
Me, slightly startled: “Well… That’s where most buzzards start in on a cow. I guess they consider that gourmet food.”
Barrett: “EWWWW… Grandma, You have to promise me that you’ll bury me.”
Me: “I promise, if you die before me, I will make sure you are buried.”
Barrett, very serious: “Thank you Grandma. I don’t want any buzzards eating my butt! Not even when I am dead.”