Okay. Time to move on. It's Sunday already. Summer solstice has come and gone. The days are getting shorter and I haven't posted anything in almost a week. Oh, I've written things in my head, but they don't count, do they? Too bad. It would make life so much easier. We'd all be writers. But then it would be meaningless, wouldn't it? There's got to be some barrier to entry. "Writers write, Owen". I suppose you could always hire a ghost writer, but that's not the same.
I did find out the rest of the story on the untimely death of the baby quail I found in my yard the other day. His family was the victim of a house cat attack. My neighbor saw the whole thing. He was sitting in his garage having a cigar and another night cap, when a quail family walked by. Suddenly the cat from next door pounced, scattering them. My neighbor, drunk as usual, deciding that the survival of the babies depended on him, lurched into action. He managed to scoop up about ten babies. He put them in a cardboard box, tossed in a little (useless) seed, being so tiny, they only eat what is regurgitated into their mouths by their parents. Next he laid a towel partially over the top then left them there for the night where, at last look, the chicks were huddled together at the bottom of the box. In the morning they were dead. All of them. What an idiot! Their only chance of survival was reconnecting with their parents. And they would have done that. Parents are quite capable of rounding up their young after such an incident. They were just waiting for Stupid to buzz off. Actually, my neighbor a really nice guy but the booze is eating him alive. He's the fellow that used to cockroach sit for me and it was also his poor judgment that resulted in Ha'penny's untimely death.
Which reminds me, I reinstated the Cockroach Diary on my website. A little girl I know wanted to read it. She's very excited to get some giant, hissing Madagascan cockroaches of her own and is reading up on them.
So, happy summer. You can't blame a busy mom for grabbing a bite to eat herself before heading back to the nest with a beak full of nice, greasy, tasty ........
No comments:
Post a Comment