Last night, we walked out on the deck in our backyard to see one of our sweet dogs, Allie, playing with some critter. We thought maybe she’d gotten a whistle pig or gopher, resulting in me doing a mental celebratory boogie dance. Upon closer inspection, we discovered that Allie had come across a robin that appeared to be in its teen years, minus the acne and mood swings. Little Red scooped the bird up while Little Lady grabbed Mister to climb up into the tree and put the birdie back home. I’m afraid of heights, so I am always good to give mental support and cheer others on, which is what I did for Mister and I did a most excellent job, if I do say so myself!
Little Lady and Little Red had seen the mom fly into the birdhouse that we have up in the tree, so that’s where Mister placed this rebellious or uncoordinated bird back in its abode. So far, so good, as far as we can tell.
As long as we don’t have any dingbat birds that trap themselves in the fireplace or the stove vent, I can handle the occasional bird that needs to hone its flying skills. Tweet, tweet.
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