It’s it is somewhere between twilight and darkness and the clouds are defined by the light ash sky behind them. Crickets are making their night sound. And I am thinking about Robin, the enigma.
Robin arrives on our back lawn every evening at 5:30 pm. He is tall and plump for a bird and has excellent posture. He hops around on two legs. When he hears worms making worm noises beneath the sod, he stops, tilts his head, and pounces. Then he continues his hop but with a worm or half a worm dangling from his beak. The ritual continues. When enough worms dangle he disappears, presumably to his hungry young family, tucked away in a nest in a location unknown. Then he returns, hopping and posing and pouncing, until sunset.
Robin returns every afternoon, punctually, so that I always know when it’s happy hour. This is a great service.
I can’t help but wonder what sound worms make in the dense earth under the grass. I wonder if they can feel Robin thudding around on the surface. “Oh shit, here he comes. Everybody run!”
Robin is not bothered nor distracted by me. He doesn’t fear me. If he does, he hunts anyway, for how else with the kids eat? He is a success as a provider.
I see the quail, and their parade of babies. I see the ducks, and their trail of ducklings. I watch them fatten and, sadly, dwindle in number as the season stretches on. I will never see Robin’s babies.
But I’ll see Robin tomorrow at 5:30 sharp. Cheers!
As it is Wednesday, many I now present a few of my favourite random cartoons?
Peace and love,
Ha, ha, ha.