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February 5th 2009

    The category of 'close to venerable' clearly includes deteriorating eyesight. There is in our midst a Merlin.  A falcon, like the Peregrine, that tries a peaceful mind. Today I took aim at her with a 22 and missed.

    I have heard the discussion, amongst the wooly footed, who will claim the bird feeder belongs to a more innocent time.  And I have seen the consequences of white bread upon the population of city sparrows.  Of course there is salt in bread, and that's not good for birds, but given the hedgerow's decline to efficient farming I can watch the wife feed sunflower seed to goldfinch, the red beaked field sparrow and the dove without concern.

    A bird flu possibly amongst them as they gather in unnatural crowds by the fishpond.  And a falcon.

   

    Then there is raptor-mania, where children learn to woo the idea of killing in a glamorous way.  Those striking feathers, sharp beak and talons.  All a part of a ghost battalion.  And here, my heart is with that founding father who believed the Turkey should have been the National Bird.  An industrious, quick witted and intelligent creature.  Instead in the USA there is the Bald Eagle. Cheney-esque in a wheel chair I suppose.

    Tomorrow is 'the fume kiln'.  I look forward to the heat of it, and having spent the winter sedentary the exercise might be good for me.

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