Wild life

In a neighborhood of lavish homes. Myself and another boy are trying to find something behind a row of houses. I don’t know what we are searching for or why it is so important. But we think it is behind those houses in a field or lake. But we can’t get back there because all the houses have fences or security. The boy walks into the house next door through a side door by the garage. No alarm sounds, so I follow him. The family is home, but they act like we belong there. Perhaps they believe we are friends of one of the kids. I search through the first floor of the house looking for the door to the basement. I run into the boy and we walk into a back bedroom. George Lamb is sitting on the bed and starts talking like he expected us. He tells us about this being his family’s new home and how happy they are with it despite having trouble finding a place. I get the impression that they had to sell their old house because of financial hardship. Then I realize that his room looks a bit squalid. But then I go look out a window at the back of the house, hoping to see a door I leave out of to get back there. But instead of seeing whatever lake or field we wanted to search, I see a complex of tennis courts and pools surrounded by woods. There are several tennis courts, a basketball court and maybe a tennis court. There are also a few small swimming or lap pools. I assume there are shared by several houses, but the property is the backyard of this house.
Several people swim in or stand by a wide stream or a small lake. With his bare hands, Mr. Funke catches a large bird floating on the water. He just grabs it as it starts to take off. The bird looks like a chicken but was swimming like a duck. Everyone is excited because now we can eat. I think of Rudy catching fish on the reality tv show survivor and how Mr. Funke is playing the same role. A girl takes the bird to prepare it and it almost flies out of her arms. I grab its foot and hang on as it flaps and tries to take off. I say that we need to skin it. It is then that we realize that no one knows how to pluck and prepare the bird. The girl yells for me to follow her and runs off. As I start to follow her, the bird tries to fly again and I yank of its foot to hang on and feel its leg break. The girl runs up to a restaurant on the other side of a distant field. A man in white meets her at the back door. She wants the chef to prepare the bird. He seems upset that we have caught one of the wild animals. I wonder is he cares about the wildlife or is just upset that we aren’t buying our meals at his place. I stand behind the girl while he lectures us. I look at the bird when I don’t feel it moving and realize that it now looks more like a rubber chicken than a real, live bird. I ask the chef if he will at least teach us how to prepare the bird and he refuses. We decide to let the bird go, but we can’t realize it into the wild due to its broken leg. The girl decides to nurse it back to health. I watch her carry the bird cradled gently in her arms up a flight of stairs to her room. Much to her father’s dismay, she has decided to keep it as a pet.