It’s occurred to me, I have a bird fetish. Just yesterday, I acquired another who is now gracing my window sill.
My neighbor, Mimi, is also into birds, so I called her over to meet my new beaked roommate.
We then, the three of us, proceeded back to her place to look up what kind of bird, in Mimi’s bird book.
According to the Almanac: All Creatures In Flight, it’s a sandpiper, a wading bird that typically nests on the ground near water.
We decided she was a female since one had very long legs near another not so long. The male looked like a basketball player next to the diminutive damsel to his left.
In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, Mimi named her Hannah, who sat between us on the coffee table while we ate a little cheese.
Today, is Mimi’s birthday she forbid me to acknowledge. “Don’t you dare bring me anything, or no more cheese,” she said, waving a finger.
Such a threat indeed..
I am a big believer in listening to someone who firmly states their needs.
But birds, apparently, have another prospective entirely.
I noticed there were some apples, Red Delicious, Mimi’s favorites, in front of her door.
I sneaked a peek at the note.
As I was flying around this morning, I came upon these apples I’m told are pretty good with cheese. Happy Birthday, love, from your friend Hannah, the Sandpiper.