Talk is cheep

Well, whaddya know. Turns out the robin hadn’t left the scene after all. He was just out cruising the robin equivalent of singles bars in order to find a lady bird he could entice with the robin equivalent of sure-fire opening lines. So before long, the arbor vitae in my backyard will be alive with the flitter-flutter of little wings.

Meanwhile, Mr. Robin J. Redbreast, Esq., is getting awfully territorial. I saw him scrapping with one of the local cardinals yesterday morning. The dogs staged one of their Westie jailbreaks this morning, and as I was checking the fence for egress points I walked a little too close to the arbor vitae and Mr. Redbreast exploded out of the greenery a foot in front of my nose.

Chill out, dude. I don’t even like hen’s eggs, much less robin’s eggs, so your brood is safe from me. Show a little gratitude that I’m keeping dogs that like nothing better than snacking on cats that otherwise endanger the family.

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