Once upon a child of 12 years, back in the 70’s the century passed that accompanied by a friend was available to give hunting a bird, animal without soul as he had taught society and also the Church (big mistake). Armed with two sling manufactured by ourselves, we were patrolling our neighborhood on the outskirts of Leon in a calleja near the railway with meadows and orchards with trees, ideal locations to find the beast that we wanted to hunt. In the House than to corner and which gave rise to the principle of our calleja in a small pen that gave entrance to the House and say little House since she was small in space and small were her occupants, not is if this detail for natural law of adaptation to the environment, the poultry with a good copy of tree which I cannot say her race because was escorted at this time that I write them but fond of nature I am, I have no knowledge botanist to put surname to the aforesaid specimen, but if I can tell them that it was majestic and that when in spring dressed in their finery was very lush, but unfortunately for the beast that my friend and I wanted Hunt (a pardal) not so leafy to hide from some hunters eager to collect a victim. And there it was perched on a branch with their trills dilating, I imagine that giving thanks to the spirit of that nature for one day more (were seven o’clock in the evening in a month of may or June), had been fed, and after the hard work which is for any living being every day make a living, because the it was happy and gave thanks. My friend and I to hear their delatores trills we raise the gaze and locate him remain outside that the was in a State of happiness that not le permitia capture our intentions.