Soup in the Sand
I was delighting in a similar display of avian affection the other day, mate- an array of sparrows chortling through some unkempt bushes by the street. I love this time of year, where the birds begin their ritual songs and dances. Elegant cranes come in for a landing and begin queer dances while trumpeting with bold and brass voices, making such an odd cacophony, it sounds almost prehistoric. Herons and lemon-eyed ospreys have already begun nesting out in the swamps. They loom, anxious, peeping out from tortuous, Gothic-looking nests, mud-cemented to moss-draped limbs of ghostly cypress trees. Below, cruising the tea-stained waters, are seas of glittering-black alligators. A marvel to behold, almost like a scene stripped from Medieval times. Yet...somehow, the bird that delights me most, and always has, is the little sparrow. What is it about sparrows? Your moment shared here was an absolute thrill, Ken D. I can just picture you and Llyde stopping to notice them, bounding amongst the limbs, sizing each other up with brilliant, lively little eyes (the birds, not you and Llyde) ;) Spirit. They have spirit. Splendid write. All the best- aj
2019-02-26