The heath hen. This is the saddest story of all, but right up my alley in terms of romantic tragedy. From the NBS Lost Bird Project brochure: “Heath hens usually only flew to the lower branches of the trees…in 1929, ornithologists witnessed a hopeful male fly to the top of a tree and call out, loudly and repeatedly, across the island. There were no heath hens to hear his plea.” That final male was last seen in 1932.
I’m thrilled to announce that my short story “Mating Call”—written last summer, set on Halloween and putting an urban-legend-esque twist on the sad tale of the extinct heath hen—has been accepted at parABnormal Magazine!
Publication is slated for December 15! I’ll let you know when you can get your copy.