I just got back from a weekend in DC. After a few minutes of checking in on the Blogosphere, I walked downstairs to warm up on the piano prior to my lesson this afternoon. There are black spots all over the floor. Feathers. (Had to get closer - my eyesight ain't so good anymore.) I wonder what DH will have to say about this?
It occurred to me after I had posted this that you might wonder why I invoked DH in a discussion about feathers. It's because I left him in charge of the home fires and the cats this weekend while I was off playing chamber music and celloing. Do you think he might have noticed the feathers on the floor? Maybe not. Most of them were in my practice area.
And btw, though the sun was shining through patchy gray clouds when I returned this morning, the cats and I are now viewing the clouds turned sullen and the first snow flakes of the season.
4 comments:
And so, who 'fessed up about the feathers? DH? One of the cats?
No confessions, but Cricket, the most likely suspect, has a small unexplained laceration under her chin. DH says "Looks like there might have been a bird, but I didn't see it." I just hope they polished it off and it isn't dead in a corner somewhere.
As long as you just found feathers, and not the dead bird. Ew. I hate that. Especially when they bring me a cute fat, DEAD Chickadee, all proud of themselves. Little buggers.opbwc
Ah, but the next day there was an even bigger pile of feathers and Sharae was gnawing on the half-eaten carcass. I'm not sure whether this was yet another bird, or the one from Sunday that had holed up somewhere in the house but was caught and finished off later. Ether way, I'm sure THAT carcass went out with the trash.
Post a Comment