Kickass and the Birds

Kickass, the doorstop dog, passes on word from the keeper and Phyllis as they spent day-three of their sand country lake run-away in the greatest of company: the birds.

First it was the pair of sandhills at the bird feeder just outside the living-room window. Then it was the pair of swans on a nearby pond, two vultures posing in a leafless tree, the faint sound of what seemed to be the call of a raven, a pair of teal at a magnificent display of wild rice, hummingbirds responding to a refueled feeder; and then as the day departed and left the lake reflecting upon itself, from far off in the distance there was that wonderful call of a whip-or-will mingling with the treefrog chorus and a first tentative cricket reporting on the mild temperature as feeding bats fluttered back and forth over the lake.

It was a gorgeous day to be with the birds, or, as the keeper does a bit of editing on an old saw: at his age it was a gorgeous day to be anywhere. Phyllis, a considerably younger woman, agrees.