Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Meet Herman

See this?   Can you see the baby bird??   Is it just not the cutest, funniest thing you've ever seen?

Okay, maybe not, but you had to be there.  I was watering my veggies.  Not particularly exciting, but we have two of these sparrow houses, one on each end of the house.  They stay very busy, because apparently these little dudes and dudettes like to get it going.  No joke.  They get "busy" on the little roofs, while the babies are screeching inside.  They waste no time, we've decided it's like a fornication zone.  These houses are constantly full of life.

This was the first time though, that one of the babies decided to check out the big bad world while momma was away.  With no fear of humans.  Usually they pop back in when we get close. 

But this little guy/girl just sat there watching me.  I'd look up and talk to him (because in all honesty, I decided it was a him and that he was a Herman) and ask what was up, if he liked the view from up there, told him I liked his hairdo, and that his little spread-out beak was really cute.   He never looked away, no matter where I moved, the head followed me.  Blinking.  It was the cutest thing I've ever seen. 

Clearly, since I had to take a picture of it.  I mean, the odds of getting that opportunity again are pretty slim, then again since we've bonded so well we might be hanging out again tonight.

And I really couldn't help but think as I was talking to this little sparrow-let, that back when I was little, I would have had a whole secret life going around this situation.  I would have had us communicating by secret languages, plotting how he would give me the blinking code that would allow me to shrink to his size and move about the back yard.  I would get to go in that house, and it would be like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in there.  There would be secret rooms and passageways, and a tunnel that would actually go through my house with little portals that viewed everything the humans did.  I would get to ride on his back as we'd slip out at night and hit the skies.

Can't imagine where becoming a writer came from.