Quinzaines today! To seek out this esoteric poetry form, go here. And voil (spoken in my purposefully bad French accent) my poem, Mesdames et Miseurs:
Snake ate all the baby wrens
Will wrens ever nest
There again?
©2020 by H. Linn Murphy
Something furry just ran past
Will Lon finally
Clean his den?
©2020 by H. Linn Murphy
Furry creature in the den
Should I let the black
Racer in?
©2020 by H. Linn Murphy
Heat begins hibernation
What other creatures
Will come in?
©2020 by H. Linn Murphy
You've probably noticed a commonality here. We had a rather traumatizing day yesterday. Instead of a restful Sunday, I came running at my husband's insistent call to find that our normally impregnable birdhouse had been horribly invaded by a big black racer snake. While it is not poisonous, it delivers a painful bit and is incredibly fast. It was twined about the birdhouse with its head through the door and coming out through a crack in the 'roof.' The parents were diving in cheeping frantically and trying to peck it. The snake just hung there, probably sort of caught, too full of baby cactus wrens to extricate itself readily.
While I took pictures, my husband caught up a handful of gravel and began pelting the thing to make it leave. It took several stinging pelts before it yanked itself out and dropped to the pile of gardening tools below. I could hear the distraught parents crying to their friends in the orange trees in the front yard. Heartbreaking to hear those cute little birds.
Of course the implements are going to move. We don't want any more babies to die because we don't have a dang garden shed. Tough lesson to learn.
It's going to be an even more hellaciously scorching summer than normal this year. That could be why I just saw something brown and furry scamper into my husband's messy den. He won't let me clean it, since it's HIS domain. Maybe having unwanted visitors will urge him to finally clean it up. Boy do I hope so!!!
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