Charlie will have plenty of homework if a friendship with Tom develops. Nice words remembered from Charlie’s grandparents certainly make him disposed to be friends.
You described the hurt of rejection so well; the hope and then the crash. Shawn was brutally honest, but since when did honesty have to be brutal? Chris is going to be back in his shell for a long while.
Fun with Imp and Angel; Sablo taking Theo home; and the description of the medal ceremony- all excellent. I enjoyed reading about Theo’s work habits, too. But now I want to see more about Diego’s new bling he got from Azrael. And where might they be going later on?
I enjoyed reading both Jed’s encounter with his Dad, and about the fascinating interaction Wolfgang has with the entities using Evan as a conduit. What will happen to Jed when his longtime friend Shawn tires of being used in the way you so effectively portray? You seem to subtly suggest that’s possible. As you do often do, you left me with an increasing number of questions. Awesome chapter!
Pain is pain; we can try quantifying it, rating it, measuring it - but it’s still the hurt of one human being. Your hurt matters. You make me feel this. Well done.
Thank you for reading and responding to these two birds. The robins often make a nest in the trumpet vine that grows on the arbor. My presence beneath the leafy branches always elicits a scolding. The cowbirds are a menace to some species of smaller birds. But they are such dull colored birds most people take no notice of them. Listen for their wolf whistle.
The junco is a wily ground feeder, choosing inhospitable places to shelter from predators. The goldfinches I am sure are largely the same. There’s a hawk flying around this minute - both juncos and finches are keeping very quiet. Thank you for reading this installment and for your comments.
Listen for the cowbird’s Wolf-whistle call, especially on roadsides that cut through woods and second growth. The song of the Robin always makes me smile. Thanks for reading these, and for your comments.
The cowbird poem was inspired by watching a pair of phoebes defend their nest from a cowbird earlier this spring. I hear the distinctive whistling call of that bird about the same time as the Robins return and start singing. Like you, I take enormous pleasure in the first spring Robins.
Ours is much larger, really a thrush. But it sings so beautifully, despite its odd name. Thank you for reading these. I’m glad you met a new bird in them.
It’s an unfortunate name, but irresistible to try to put into poetry. The cowbird is a real danger to populations of warblers and flycatchers and one reason not to let development encroach on woodlands. Thanks for reading these! I’m very grateful.
The Robin
Now Robin redbreast let’s discuss,
named Turdus Migratorius;
he’s just a Thrush in bright array,
though frequently fastidious.
He’s up before the break of day
to sing a merry rondelet;
and later he will cock an ear
to search for worms beneath the clay.
Unlike the Jay, he does not jeer,
but wishes creatures all good cheer,
and later spreads a flash of white
in hopes his mate will f