Baby bird's butts throb like carp mouths. At least baby ROBIN'S butts do. At least, the 2 baby robins that currently live in a shoebox on our kitchen counter's buttholes throb like hungry ol' carp mouths.
And no, there's no way to avoid looking. It seems that they're designed to point said buttholes directly at the sky when defecating so that the Mom and Dad birds will 'do something with that fecal sac, won't you dear' (the equivalent of avian 'it's your turn to change the diaper') which means either the mom and dad bird 1) eat it or 2 ) dump it somewhere far from the nest.
In our case, we've chosen to not snack on the sac. Tiny mucus bags of uric acid simply aren't all that appealing.
------------------------------------------
BOOOOKS!!!
Terry Pratchett is, in my humble estimation, a frigging genius. I'm reading "Guards Guards" right now, and can't wait to get to the end of it. It might well be this desire to read that has made me a tad crabby this weekend. Once there's a good book laying around that I MUST get to the end of, it'd be ever so nice if nothing else got in the way...
Or, I could be irritable because my uterus hates me, and has decided to, once again, and rather vigorously, spew forth unused baby-swaddling.
Whatever the reason for the irritable season, the book is good. No questions about that.
-------------------------------------------
When someone invites themselves over for dinner, asks you to buy them their steak (also offering to pay you if you can offer up a receipt), calls at 4:30 to ask when dinner is because they're hungry, then comes over at the appointed hour of 8 p.m. after having wings and ice cream with their girlfriend du jour, which of course means that neither of them are hungry for the dinner you prepared (because he invited himself to DINNER at 4.....)
Would you be mad?
-----------------------------------------
OK - enough for now. I'm banging this out and getting angrier - not a good thing for a Sunday evening.
Must go think of the good things that have happened in my life recently, not the least of which involved the return home of Biff, a trip to the Farmer's Market today with Renn and family, no more poison ivy itch, 2 wee birdies who survive against all odds, a home, plenty in the larder......and countless other blessings that OUGHT to countermand the surface irritations that prick at my longed-for inner peace.
Heh. I said 'prick.'
No comments:
Post a Comment