Saturday, January 28, 2023

SATURDAY MORNING AT THE BIRD FEEDER - SQUIRREL FORGETFULNESS

Hello Dear Squirrel,

Why are you so sad?

The sun is out

And the sky is blue,

Not gray enough

To make you of

The same hue.”

To this he replied,

“I worked so hard

To store up my food,

I buried it in a

thousand holes

Said this sad little soul.

I can’t remember

Where they might be

I’ve dug everywhere

As you can plainly see.”

And yes there were

A thousand fresh holes

But no nuts to be found

At the top of each mound.

“How long has it been?”

Said I to this sad little face

“Quite a while “ he said

With barely a squeak,

“As I don’t remember this

Wood when I fell asleep.”

I said, “Your brother

must be Rip Van Winkle

My dear little friend.”

And I said as a tease,

“All those nuts that you buried.

Are now very big trees.

You’ll have nuts a plenty

But next time you bury,

And from one nut to another,

May I suggest

With not as must jest,

You make an extra large map,

And mark each hole

With a very large ‘x’!”

In the meantime this dear little squirrel won't have to put up with my poor prose, as I keep filling up the feeder in which to bury her nose - ahhhhh!!!!!

And patiently wait I for the little birds to appear, when squirrel has had her fill for never fear, she will be feeding her own babies in the spring of the year.

Welcome to one and all to my feeder I say, room enough to go around on this kind of day.

And now I leave so that you can stop your groaning, I say. Denise is feeling better and will be out of the house for the rest of the day.

The sniffles have almost gone, no more time on her hands to mope, for there are lots of lovely things with her camera to be found, now that she is no longer cabin and fever bound.

Oh boy!

Prose over and done!




(This is one from a while ago and though I was under the weather at the time of writing, I am perfectly free of sniffles.)