Thursday November 7th 2013 Tim
Damn right we're going to chase Blue Jays.
They have nuts to bury, Raptors to tease and a host of migratory
activities very few of which seem to make any sense, and all of which
should keep them well away from the Alatus Berries. And Blue Jays
are unyielding when confronted. At this time of the year
particularly, their instinct is to squawk back in somewhat accusing
manner. I find this frustrating and so does the House Mockingbird, as we
both ponder the status quo of our fat, stay at home, winter larders.
I don't recall his
name at the moment, but he was a printer somewhere in Pennsylvania, drank
water from the River Thames at a period in history when everyone else in
London took their liquids from beer because the River Thames was a sewer,
and he was also the first Post Master General of his new country. I
begin to believe that before settling upon the diligent Turkey as his
contribution to the choice for National Bird, he might first have considered
the Blue Jay. A choice I too would have considered had I been there
with him at the Philadelphia Convention listening to delegates from Southern
States harp on about the central role of the institution of slavery to their
own fat winter larders.