Saturday, September 24, 2005


One recent morning near an abandoned Civil War cemetery, I encountered a friendly little bird with white feathers and orange legs and orange beak. About the size of a sparrow, he hopped about, alone and unconcerned. I thought he must be an escaped exotic, but emailed WarrenWoessner who guessed that it was an albino sparrow. Checking the birdbooks, I think Warren was right. Is this a portent of end-times?

And yesterday the bird of night did sit
Even at noonday upon the marketplace,
Hooting and shrieking…

Groucho a Peruvian grey-cheeked parakeet ruled by nipping my ear. He particularly despised the phone, and would disconnect it after three rings. If I beat him to the phone and foolishly attempted to converse with my free hand over the phone plug, Groucho would squawk and seriously rip my one free ear. It’s sad that he’s dead.