Morning

Here it is, nearly 8:30 in the morning on a cold Thursday, and I sit here writing a blog entry. It may be a rather unorthodox time, but I feel it is necessay, because I'm about to forget what I have to say.

This is about the birds. As I brushed my teeth this morning, I looked out the window, as explained so many times previously. Now, noting the birds' long absense, I had no premonition of seeing them today. Yet, as I turned to look our my little round window, the bluebonnets painted to the glass, I saw... a bird. One single, solitary, orange bellied, yellow beaked, brown backed, white butted bird. Pooping on my roof.

Well, I was shocked. I frantically searched the skies and neighboring rooftops for the return of my fine-feathered friends, but they were no where to be seen. The only bird anywhere was the one. On my roof. I feel sort of special in that respect. But then, it was time to spit. And when I was done, I turned back, and the bird, like a flash, was gone (not that I imagine these disproportionate birds flying fast...).

Was this the last time for me to ever see one of these ugly birds? Was it just the one coming back to say goodbye? Or perhaps he was warning me against the big black crows? Maybe the rest of his friends got hit by trucks? Stay tuned to find out.