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June 4th  2011    Tim Candler

    The Cedar Mockingbird - the one that I believe spent winter coughing and sneezing - has a flying child.  So I  have to ask who on this earth had soft heart enough to pair with him.  She  is clearly a saint and it is obvious to me that in their bond she plants the Parsley, gives to the food bank and will only ever drink Fair Trade Coffee.

   He is not a pretty child, but then what child is.  And  there he was, gormless and worried, while his mother found one of the several hundred square meals he needs every day.

     Dreadful to think of it, and I am ashamed, but I think this new child has a large bottom, which means according to my own keen observations of the Human species, he will be a mother's boy.  And if he inherits his father's ill health, I suspect I will be forced to spend good hours trying to fend for him.

    But he was in the Vegetable garden, pottering around, eyeing a Raspberry, while she collected what could have been a Spider.  There is a chance too that he might be a girl.

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