I really didn't mean to burden you with something every day, life will get busy soon and I won't be able to, however, I was just struck with a "life imitating art" moment today.
I was scheduled to do a puppet show at a library in Eastham this morning, a very rudimentary puppet show of one of the Thornton Burgess stories involving two foxes, Granny and Reddy, and a duck, played by a not always willing child . The main plot is a very hungry Granny and Reddy Fox try to catch a duck with little success. Sad for them, happy for the duck, and yet when I walked around the bog pond today, what did I find scattered across this thinnest of sheets of ice, but a multitude of duck feathers, as though someone had shaken out a comforter. Unfortunately for *this* duck, and by the lovely white color of many of the feathers, I suspect one of the male hooded mergansers won't be doing that catapulting love dive after all, it didn't have as happy an ending. Unless of course, you can have an empathetic heart that can appreciate what that meal might have meant to the hungry carnivore, or omnivore who finally got lucky. I know I do,it isn't easy being a predator.
And because I am practicing restraint we shall leave it at that. Acacophony of crow calls can be discussed another day.
Pat, briefly
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