Small Circus

My imagination can be wild. I lost my mind on a recent afternoon and since debated about withholding this post to save myself from embarrassment and storing it as a draft to remember how I laughed. I take the risk. Here it is. After all, I’m in my fifties – a time to blow caution to the wind. If feathery and furry critters could talk…

A circus came to town on a wet, gray day.


Two clowns arrived and the birds found seats in the stands with a good view, not far away.

The Doves were amused but Mrs. Cardinal seemed bored. Perhaps she was PMSing, feeling out of sorts.

Feeding stopped while they all watched

the brave one soar seven feet through space, with the greatest of ease, to land on the tube feeder full of seeds.

It swung high, back and forth, for what seemed like a full minute. The brave one hung by a fingernail then lost its squirrelly grip.

Meanwhile,


the timid one found the nuts

but didn’t quite know what to do next. I have the nuts! What shall I do? Where’s the safety net?

I moved closer to interview the brave one.


Hello, brave one. You’re quite a clown.

Dang. I’m busted and I fell down.


I can still see you, ya know. Come out. Don't be shy.

May I visit?

I’d like to stay here and enjoy just a few of your delicious sunflower seeds. I promise to clean up before I leave.

Oh, aren’t you so brave!


Life is good in your yard, lady.

But your timid friend is waiting and calling you from down the hill…


Come with me, please? She might eat you!

I say GO! SCRAM, you circus clown!


You talkin’ to me? Are you sure you’re talkin’ to me? You must be kidding.

No, I’m not kidding. You are arrogant. Farewell. The show is over. It’s raining.

My camera is getting wet.


Whatever. I’ll be baaaaack! You bet!

See? I’m so ready for a Christmas break, meds, or twelve straight hours of sleep. :o)