A Bird In The Brain Pool

For the past two days, I've had a mind fungus growing. Although its medicinal properties may have helped prevent unwanted bacteria from running amok in my frontal lobe, the fungus seems to be interfering with the small, creative-juice pool in my cranium. It is running dry.

Since I try, for the most part, to post original content on this blog, I am desperate for material. In the past, when I've fallen into a creative slump, I have resorted to posting pictures of the dogs and cat that live with me. It is a cheap, yet effective, way to offer visitors a snack when I'm too tired to prepare a meal. So it is today.

I found the little bird pictured in this post in my backyard. It could not yet fly, and Sophie and Lily were barking at it. There are a lot of large trees in my yard, and I could not determine from where the bird fell, so I made a nest for it and filled it with grass, bird seed and water, hoping its mother would somehow rescue it. I put it on the picnic table so the dogs would leave it alone, and then went back into the house and let nature take its course. A couple hours later, I checked on the bird, and it was gone. A happy ending, I hoped. About 15 minutes later, Catherine the cat delivered the dead little bird to me as a present. Is it just Catherine's nature to kill, or is she evil? The question is not unlike that I ask about man. I think the real question might be, "Do I care?"