My family went on a trip to the Ozarks, and we took Baby with us. Along the way we stopped to visit relatives. I took baby outside and he flew out of sight but he came back when I called him. When we got to the Ozarks, I let Baby outside to fly around. I didn't worry much about him because he had always come when I called him, and so I went into the house to speak with my family; moments later, I heard a shotgun go off outside. I didn't think that anything bad had happened to Baby, but I went outside and called for him anyhow.

I saw a family standing in the driveway of the house next to ours. There was the father and mother and their son who had a shotgun in his hand. They were all facing me while I stood calling for Baby. I looked at them and I said, "Have you seen a Black Bird flying around here? He belongs to me, I raised him myself; his name is Baby. He's real friendly. He'll try to land on your shoulder." They looked stunned, and one of them said, "Oh. We didn't know." — I just kept calling for him. Baby! Baby! Baby!