Death by starling

My Dad (white raincoat) supervising salvage of Electra Jet crash debris ©AP photo

Speckled brown clumps of feather and gristle were inches from my freckled face.

I was 11 years old. Muddy jagged airplane parts crowded the deck of the heavy salvage barge where I stood.

Looming over me was a giant Lockheed L-188A Electra turboprop aircraft engine. I squinted, looking closer at damp feathers as morning sun reflected off the riveted engine cowling.