Mrs. Pigeon’s Rainy Day Picnic

We were invited for the picnic and looked forward to it for months. It is not everyday, that the Pigeon family gives a picnic. When I woke up in the morning, it was clear and sunny. The kind of a day that would be great for a picnic. 2 years ago, we would have been sure that it would be on. The drought is far behind us now. The days are not as predictable as they used to be, down here in beautiful North Carolina.


I said to myself, I wonder if Mrs. Pigeon wants me to bring anything. I gave her a call and asked her. "Mrs. Pigeon, I had forgotten to ask if you would want me to bring anything to the picnic. You know that I am coming straight from work."
She became belligerent. This was not unlike her. The city was in her blood and she finds it difficult to keep her belligerence at bay. I told you that you are the guest of honor. I don’t know why you people always are trying to make yourselves into birds. I was sure that she has a real chip on her wing about being patronized. She said that she only became my friend because we could pass for twins in terms of belligerence. If I refuse to listen to her and let her dote on me, she will negate our friendship. Birds, I have found are very funny like that. The things that make people enjoy one another’s company are very, very different for them. They love to tell one another that they have a pet person or other and they spoil them rotten for a season or two and then divorce them completely and you would never see them again. It is their way of getting into your life. Birds are very fickle, you wouldn’t know it to look at them. They love to gab about acquiring and letting go of acquaintances and pet people like the wind.



I couldn’t convince Mrs. Pigeon that I meant any good by volunteering to bring something foreign to her. She was convinced that I was acting patronizing and that she could see that as a poor family, we had special needs to be cared for. I thanked her for her concern and consideration. I didn’t say another word about it and we had the picnic as planned in spite of the rain.

Ms. Viney shakes Mr. Tree's hand

There seemed to be a day of comfort among the flowers. Lady Lunar Moth sunk beneath the sheets of comfort in the Daylilies petals. She drank deeply of the nectar of the flowers and told every secret of her heart to her dearest friend. It seems a shame that they will only be friends for the day. The sadness that Ms. Moth endured seemed to be something that would have lasted longer than the day. But how true it is, that each day has enough, to bear with its own troubles. Ms Moth will wake up to a dead daylily but she bore her heart and tomorrow is sure to be a better day. Still it seems futile that such friends should share so much for just one day. I saw Ms. Moth still asleep when I left.
The hyacinths smoking had outlasted themselves. Their season of smoking and gossip seems so short. Nothing seems to get past their wistful gaze. I miss them and their 2nd hand smoke. They are beautiful as they puff and gossip, but not discreet in the least. They share everything they hear and never spend a moment fixing their own troubles, just gossiping about others.
My attention was struck by a new relationship starting in the courtyard. Mr Tree and Ms. Vine had their first handshake. The earth quaked and quivered at the beauty of it. I was surprised that, instead of the usual sundry spider web donning the august tree, there was a single strand of vine making the acquaintance of his handsomeness. This is their very first handshake and he was obvious in his admiration of her greenery. He has no idea that she has intentions of covering his branches with greenery. He thinks this is a friendly handshake. To her, this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship. She has roots, already covering his feet. Their conversation is civil and polite. She is trying to see how her skills can decorate his barren areas.
He does have leaves and flowers on top that are a royal part of the economic system of the courtyard. He does business with the sun and the flying insects and the birds and has a complete rapport with all of the social elements. He has no idea that he is missing something. He has no leaves on the bottom branches and Ms Viney knows all about this. She knows that she can remain 100% herself and still decorate him. He cannot see the advantage, yet…

The bumblebees don’t even know what is going on. They visit the blossoms and blooms several times a day to buy and sell and rest and have picnics, but nobody guesses that Viney has designs on Mr. Tree, from the first handshake

Bess and Hess' Great Big Mess!

Bess and Hess had baby bulls and were out on maternity leave for a while. That is why I hadn’t seen them. That season in the city had gotten them more than they bargained for, I’m afraid. This morning they were arguing whose calf is cuter. I, without a trained eye, can’t much see the difference in bulls. They looked equally cute to me. But Bess was adamant that her little Horace is the most beautiful thing since a bucket of freshly gotten milk. Hess is not as insistent, though she is not convinced in the least that her Precious Syl is playing second fiddle to any other bull ever born. Mothers agree, cross species that their baby is best. After all, we work harder than any creature on earth to deliver them. They should win all awards at birth, we all think. A little something of a habit of caffeine that they have been in detox for for a while the little ones were born with a little pull toward the rambunctious. Not at all contented cows of yesteryear. Mr. Starbucks has made a couple of over active fellows of the two.

When I caught a glimpse of them this morning, they were already into mischief: slowly separating from the mommas, to do a little chewing of the fence as well as the cud that they were supposed to be doing.
What are you doing Horace, Bess bellowed over the coffee clatch gossip. Nothing mother. I told you, if I don’t keep a close eye on him he would be playing out there in the road. I am on him like white on rice, so to speak. Are you asserting that I am remiss in my parenting ability, because I am not a overprotective Heffer like you? Snapped Hess, back. They were deep in the bickering process which is new for these two who were before the best of friends. Babies will do that to you. The stress. Bessie placed her hoof to her brow and sighed large and then collapsed under the weight of her body and the pressure of possibly never being able to recover this friendship.
They had had so many years of fun, was it worth it for her to be the superior one in every argument. Hess was starting to show the strain of the relationship conflicts also. Her silence and distancing herself from the crowd, so as not to attract Bessie’s continual comparisons she was sick of it.
All the while, the little bulls were up to their ears in mess. They had taken it upon themselves to try to make a pile of poop, high enough to step on and try to escape the height of the fence. This might be fun for pigs, but it was completely out of character for the sensibilities of distinguished and refined cows. How could they both embarrass their mothers so?
The mothers had no clue of the mess that they were in for; when they would recover from their argument.
On and on the bulls ate, going to the same pile, stepping on it: thinking that they could climb a little higher than the fence. It was on their faces. It was on their bodies. It turned into a sliding contest, after the first 5 or six attempts. They forgot why they were doing this. They just kept it up for fun messing and laughing at eachother.
It was Jess, who remained calm because she had no calf. She was the one who had first noticed what they were doing. It was her determination to teach the bickering cows a lesson. She whispered from one cow to the other to get away from the calves because of the mess problem. They all wanted to be absolutely sure that they would not be close to the mess when the mother’s found their calves covered in it. They didn't know how many days it would be before they would be watered down. That meant, the odor would be unbearable until Thursday when they were scheduled to be hosed. The quiet whispering made Hess look up and she let out a squeal of a moo that was horrifying. " MOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The other cows were cackling like hens at the young calves, new found joy. It was repulsive to the particular sensitivities of distinguished cows to get into such a disgusting condition. After all they are the keepers of most of the world’s sustenance, in their own estimation. They consider what they do a labor and provision for all of mankind. The cows consider it their job to remain clean and aloof from the other animal’s disgusting partialities.
What would Bess and Hess do when they got to these little fellows? They looked at eachother from across the grazing field and tried to move at the same time. Their hooves seemed stuck in the mud as they attempted to run across to reach those younguns. Bessie reached for the switch and Hessie reached for the log to place them across. Nobody was raving on their boys now! They were attempting not to throw up, as each of them held the other one’s calf in the by the scruff of his neck. One hoof held a nose and the other the fellow and they looked at eachother in the eye and the biggest laugh came out of them. “Serves us right!” Doesn’t it? For being so proud of the precious ones. They don’t look so precious now, do they? Or smell so precious? They walked around with the fellows in mid air for most of the rest of the day after the whipping that they gave them they walked around looking for some water to wash them in. Farmer Joe saw the hullaballoo and accommodated them by putting on the sprinklers, for them. He was happy to see the two friends on the same side of the grazing yard, after the tension of the recent weeks.

Don't! Don't!--------Mrs. Bluejay prompts to primp

It does seem odd not to have seen Mr. and Mrs. Robin lately. Last year the building was all aglow with their inlaws and friends congratulating them for their quiver’s hatch. It was interesting to see Mr. Robin struggle with his selfishness as the attention was so totally away from him and now that the young ones are grown and gone they have forgotten that they are parents’ and gone back to being friends and loves. The couples have spread out this season, and quite a few of them have decided to move north and get away from mother robin’s doting “butinskyism”. It was cute in the beginning, but now the couples need time to themselves.
I miss the family times that they had and I know that Mrs. Robin thinks that I am much better to have left me as she did. Last year, she checked on me everyday. I couldn’t dodge her for anything. This year we are on the outs, for many reasons. But I suppose that it is my own choosing. Some other birds have made my acquaintance. I have learned that they are experts at timing. They calmed me down when my NY timer was on the fritz and I was ready to ditch it all. Ms. Robin was sent to talk me off the wall again. I will always be grateful for her intervention. Even if she never talks to me again, I will never forget her consideration for me and wise interjections. I hope to hold onto them.

Mrs. Bluejay is always giving me show off tips.  You must start primping she bleeps.  She finds a mirror wherever she is to show me how often she checks her make up.  She feels that God’s paint needs help so she covers and tweeks and tweezes and does just about anything that she can, to make herself attractive.   Last night, she was showing off when we were on the road home from church.

She knows just when we are coming around the corner.   She said you know my timing is impeccable.   I knew that you were at it again.  I am afraid, that you haven’t learned how to toot your own horn.  You must toot it to the children especially or they will disregard you.   Mine don’t even come to visit me unless they bring with them three compliments for mother.   I was not surprised.  She has made her own separate nest from Mr. Bluejay in Charlotte.  He has to visit her in her nest to get any attention.  If he hasn’t any compliments he is out immediately.   She has no tolerance for anything less than complete and utter devotion.   She is extreme, but she has a very proud and pompous mate who would crush her under his own vanity.   She said matter of factly, I am sent to you to teach you the starter class in primping.  You need a face and long mirror.   Look, I make a mirror out of anything.  In fact I flew this way so that I could admire my reflection in the car.  I am vain.  But, it does me good to be vain.   I would hope that you would follow me and learn vanity and do what I do.

Vain birds have to have separate residences.  Don’t you think I am wonderful.  At that point, the light turned green and I had no time to answer her, just watch her beautiful feathers flapping in the breeze.  I couldn’t have complimented her better than she did herself, anyway.

Mr Squirrel meets Turdus Merulla

Mr.Squirrel was acting strange as usual. There is always something out of sorts with him. This time the heat had gotten under his craw. Cranky and undignified he kept trying to reach for a breeze somewhere. Maybe if I stick my neck out this far I will feel cooler, he thought. It is my whiskers which make me hot when they are touching my fur. How can I separate my whiskers from my fur. Baby blackbird had just gotten up the gumption to venture out past the view of momma bird. Momma blackbird could never be called an over protective mother, by any means. She lets her fledgelings do just as they please from bedtimes to food. Pop Blackbird runs a tight ship when they get of age to serve under him. So during their formative months mom lets them enjoy whatever freedoms they can think of. They are all usually a very tightknit group, hovering close as they can to mom. They just love her relaxed attitude and although they could be anywhere, they sit at her feet and listen to her every word and peep.
Not today for baby, she was venturing out past the walls of the nest. The heat had her searching for a stray bit of water somewhere. Doesn’t anybody make a birdbath somewhere? She caught sight of Mr. Squirrel sticking his neck out and it was and observable unusual sight for her. She really had never made his acquaintance before. Scared and curious she made her way closer and closer to what looked like a posing squirrel. Do you need help? She peeped from the top of the stair bannister. No, he grunted back. Can’t you see I am catching a breeze? Silly bird, move away from me, you are causing me to use up my valuable energy conversating with you for what? You are of no consequence to me. Why are you bothering me in all this heat? You are just making me hotter than I already am. Get away, get away, I say.

Wow, you are a grumpy paws aren’t you? She had never met a squirrel and so she was under the impression that perhaps all squirrels were of the crankyshanks sort. I simply wanted to know if you needed help. If you are not in pain, I will stay right here and watch you for whatever it is you are posing. It is a free building and I will stay right here thank you very much. I am not at all blocking any air from getting to you at all. What class in aerodynamics did you graduate from anyhow to really believe that I could block air from you all the way over there. I am the baby in my family and I know better than that.

You are a judgmental, little feisty, flighty thing. I’d bet your momma doesn’t even know you strayed away from the nest now shoe, shoe, before I come over there and nip at your wings.
This argument went back and forth for sometime between them. Mr. Squirrel grew a little respectful for the little baby Merula who gave him what for. He had never had a bird take him to task in such a way. He was used to getting his own way with everybody being such a crankyshanks. Not with Merula. She knew how to use her tongue as well as her wings and her ganglion. This was just the beginning of a beautiful friendship between them but now momma blackbird was calling for supper and no water was to be found so she flew off as swiftly as she had appeared. Mr. Squirrel had enjoyed the challenge that she posed and was lonely now that she had excused herself.



It was Mexican American night at the pavilion and the ducks and geese couldn't seem to get into the rhythms that had overtaken the scene. Evvy said that they were all "whitefeathered". A stereotype, but it seemed to fit as they were all huddled on the other side of the lake, as far from the music as possible. Finally, one older couple decided to risk the ostracization that would happen if they went against the crowd. Come on, Harry, lets go down there and cut some ripples on the water. Sally, I am not ready to cut any ripples. Do you remember the last time we went out on the town? I couldn't paddle straight for a week. Do you want to see that happen to me again? Have a heart? Come on Harry, we are still young, lets go down there and dance.
Slowly, very slowly, they broke away from the crowd and went down to where the music was the loudest. Harry was doing the uptown paddle and the electric waddle. They cut, more than a few ripples, they cut waves on the water that night. Sally was pleased and a little embarrassed at what a spectacle he made of himself, but she was ready to nurse his wounds the next day. Their reward was that the children fed them all kinds of different Mexican foods that they had not had before and the other ducks listened intently as they recounted their adventure, the next day to them.

Its the early tennis player that catches the bunny

Momma bunny is early out of the den collecting the breakfast items for her children. She goes out to the garden and collects all of the salad pieces that she adorns her table with. We caught her posing for us on her short stop picking up breakfast. We found that she is quite a show off, in her way.
She was gracious to make the acquaintance of Enoch in the field. So you are the boy who gave my children that ball souvenir. We have it on the mantle in our den. You are famous for us. Enoch graciously received the compliment and off we went home. It was nice to get to the field before the young bunnies, to make the acquaintance of momma bunny.

The last bunny straggled in to breakfast when we got out to the courts today,

Enoch said he's coming out to the courts momma, I heard her say as she hopped in to their comfortable den for bunny stew. Today was the day that Enoch has learned to keep it in the court, of course. He is still a professional to the bunnies. His favorite fans, even now that he keeps the ball in play. They were hoping for a souvenir from the 2009 summer tour out at the courts from the Walker family. They just love us all, but especially Enoch, for some reason.
All except Ma bunny who keeps a close eye on the time and considers us a distraction from her bunnies learning the real facts of life. Most of the bunnies are grown now and they really don't need momma's talking to's that they get. They submit to her anyway because that is the bunny way!