Birds of a feather

She fixed up a daypack packed with a camera. She has borrowed one of my nicer walking sticks. She knows just how far the east is from the west so were not worried about her getting lost, but we wanted to tag along anyway, well she said, no way.

Anyone who walks the newly exposed ground, say, looking for antler sheds, moose or deer, probably shares the same scenic desire, but ruffed Grouse at least help by making that unbelievably wonderful noise, its not the cute little chickadee chirps or melodious migrant songbird chortle either, it's a chest pumping drum roll we just love in the very same woods that the shed bones, lying silent, almost requesting they be left alone, well spring according to all of mothers nature, is not what alone is about, so if you look, and listen long enough, you can find them both.

The cast off bones, start as a set, growing daily just inches apart, spend the summer and part of the fall together, then in a final parting, seldom fall right next to each other. I wonder if they spent so much time on the same skull, they just like knowing that maybe even as they decompose, they won't have to see there own mirrored image ever again. I think that's why I look all the harder after I find one side. My mind sez don't quit until you put the pair back together.

See that's the cool thing about the drummer, he puffs up his chest, starts a whap, whap, whappin with those perfect wings, he pounds his chest, wings beating a whirling, into a dizzy feathered tizzy until he just about flies, and he wont quit until he puts the pair together either.

We asked again to go with her. No way. You want some help picking a good location. Sure. But I’m still going alone. How about we just look for bones until you get back. Nope, no thanks. Well, What about all the times we took you with us. You’ll get over it boys. The trout whisperer