What we think we know is this: it seemed to enjoy fruits and roots and berries; adult dodos could grow to around 3 feet tall and could weigh up to forty pounds; it is believed to have been brownish-grey in color with a tuft of tail feathers counterbalanced by a large, hooked beak; some accounts render it portly and slow, others, due to the particular strength of its leg bones, suggest thinner and fast; it is thought to have laid one egg at a time in a ground nest, a habit it developed out of an abundance of food and the luxury of how long it had lived with nothing inpursuit-the same reasons why, over time, its sternum became inadequate for flight; it seemed to prefer the island's drier, coastal forests; upon encountering humans for the first time, the uninformed dodo was reportedly tame, which was perhaps mistaken for a lack of intelligence.
No one knows exactly how or when the last dodo died, though it is believed they were gone by 1700. It's a haunting image, that lone bird, lingering softly at the perimeter of what used to be its forest, wondering if the world would always be like this. Of course, we know that's not quite how animals think, but we can't help it. There is so much we have to say to that bird. We are sorry. The world will not always be like this. O, invisible beast of magnificence, what have we done.