Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full.
It’s the start of winter now and I’m so pleased I’ve got my moult over and done with. Everybody is looking splendid in their new winter wear. I don’t know how Steve and Brian do it but they hardly seem to shed a feather for their summer-to-winter moult, while I look like a hedgehog – and a balding one at that.
Still, I get my own back in spring when I have an easy moult and THEY look like used rags. Speaking of moults, The Female Person never photographed me for my second portrait in the end. I wonder why?
OK, I’ve been thinking about sex (quite fun really!) but writing poetry about it is harder than I imagined – this is the best that I could come up with:
A poem about sex by Ruby
Make love to me, but do it to me quick,
I’ve got to get outside; there are dandelions to pick.
It’s quite hard on my back you know,
Even though I squat real low.
And there are things happening down below
Which make my heart race and brain go slow.
So make love to me, tick me off your list.
Then go and bother someone else. Oh no, I insist!
Awesome. I can’t wait to share it with Jack!
No comments:
Post a Comment