“Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”
Atticus Finch.
I called out to Sam, “Come look. It looks like a platypus.”
Down at my feet between the flagstones was a small creature the size of a thumb. The head portion was elongated and there were four tiny feet; the body curled into a fetal position.
For a few moments, we stared in wonder. Then Sam said, “A marsupial I think. A possum.”
“Ah yes,” I agreed, “probably a mama possum was passing by and dropped one from her pouch.”
“Unlikely to be a platypus,” Sam said. “I agree it looks like one, but they are the only egg-laying mammals, and they live in Australia.”
Sam watches a lot of those nature shows on TV.
The kittens, Harry and Wilhelmina, have started doing a little hunting. For the longest, Wilhelmina brought gifts of large gnarly leaves to the door. I’ve tried to entertain her by casting leaves into the air and watching them flutter down, but it’s a certain kind of leaf that attracts her attention and I don’t find the right leaves.
A funny kitten, Wilhelmina is. She eats kale, lettuce and yogurt. Once, Sam and I were seated for dinner with closed eyes for the blessing. When we opened our eyes, Wilhelmina was on the table eating our salad. From then on, we keep at least one eye open at the table.
Sam saves the last bite of yogurt for Wilhelmina. She continues to lick the spoon while twisting her face at its tartness. An odd little cat she is.
Last week Sam announced, “Wilhelmina was bad today. I caught her with a mockingbird in her mouth. I managed to free the mockingbird, and it flew away. It lost a few feathers.”
“I told her it was a sin to kill a mockingbird.”
The kittens are changing, as is the season. Up until now I’ve had a hard time thinking of putting up a Christmas tree. It looked so fall-like. Then the second wave of rains and wind came, taking all the golden leaves with it. It turned frigid cold, and now it looks wintry. Time for a tree, a couple of wreaths and some outdoor lighting.
While walking to the mailbox I noticed the possumhaw had red berries. It made me smile. The possumhaw was the inspiration for this column. Native to the Prairie, hopefully a bright spot in a sometimes-wintry world.
Wild ducks are landing on our ever-filling lake. The geese come and go. The Pekin ducks are doing well since the lame duck has recovered from her injury.
One day I went to feed, and she came running toward me with only a slight limp. The webbing on her left foot is split but the gash has healed. The good news of that is that I can now tell the two ducks apart.
I’ve seen a bluebird going in and out of the bluebird box by the wood pile. Time for all to hunker down for winter.
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