"She's as big as a cow!" Priscilla says of Silky Josephine.
She and Carl have returned. They were busy the first couple of days, repairing their nest over the back porch light. There was mudding to do, before the feathering, and while the it dries, we have a moment to talk.
Priscilla tells me about their trip, about Anna and Luis, and I tell her what little I know about the mysterious disappearance of Bobo, and of Silky's curious growth spurt, our present topic.
"One hundred and forty dollars worth of tests at the Doctor," I tell Priscilla, "and all we learned was that she's just regular old fat."
We had suspected ... even hoped ...that Silky might have an 'issue', something glandular that could be resolved with a pill. But that wasn't the case. Silky is perfectly healthy ... other than, as Priscilla says, being 'as big as a cow' ... only a slight exaggeration.
We watch her chase a bumblebee, leaping and spinning and snapping, as if she were as delicate and dainty as a butterfly, which, inside, Silky truly is.
"She doesn't get any more treats," I tell Priscilla, "and she'll get more exercise, now that it's warmed up and she can be outside."
"I can help with that," Priscilla says, and like a bullet, she's in the air, swooping and tittering, and Silky, her eyes wide with delight gives chase.
"She'll be slim as a willow switch in no time," I hear Priscilla say. And if anyone is equipped to imagine a slender Silky Josephine, I suppose it would be me.
She and Carl have returned. They were busy the first couple of days, repairing their nest over the back porch light. There was mudding to do, before the feathering, and while the it dries, we have a moment to talk.
Priscilla tells me about their trip, about Anna and Luis, and I tell her what little I know about the mysterious disappearance of Bobo, and of Silky's curious growth spurt, our present topic.
"One hundred and forty dollars worth of tests at the Doctor," I tell Priscilla, "and all we learned was that she's just regular old fat."
We had suspected ... even hoped ...that Silky might have an 'issue', something glandular that could be resolved with a pill. But that wasn't the case. Silky is perfectly healthy ... other than, as Priscilla says, being 'as big as a cow' ... only a slight exaggeration.
We watch her chase a bumblebee, leaping and spinning and snapping, as if she were as delicate and dainty as a butterfly, which, inside, Silky truly is.
"She doesn't get any more treats," I tell Priscilla, "and she'll get more exercise, now that it's warmed up and she can be outside."
"I can help with that," Priscilla says, and like a bullet, she's in the air, swooping and tittering, and Silky, her eyes wide with delight gives chase.
"She'll be slim as a willow switch in no time," I hear Priscilla say. And if anyone is equipped to imagine a slender Silky Josephine, I suppose it would be me.
