Tuesday, January 3, 2012

After a Four Year Nap

It was that excruciatingly tedious flight through northern China's polluted skies to my nest I blame for this hiatus in my adventures. A week after waking to merriment of distant Christmas festivities my feathers are still directed to every compass point. I could have been created a hedgehog and been saved the trouble of getting my bits and pieces together. Also my usually polished claws need trimming before I can hunt. Four-years-aged leftovers are no longer delectable. Where are you, my dear friend, Zhar? A basket of goodies in beak would be so acceptable. Those four years have eroded quite a hole in my stomach.

We Sirins are optimists, ready to visualize roses on a bare thorn bush. This new decade seems a moment to blossom. So as soon as I am able to wrangle these feathers into flight order, I'll be heading east again but by a more tropical route. Four years ago I promised to assist that little theater troupe of San Jose birds and beasts with my expertise. Just a quick dart back to my nest to pick up a few useful volumes of classic plays and we could set to work building up an impressive repertoire of pieces for them to perform. Alas, Plautus became my pillow. Moliere propped up my claws. Aesop's ass brayed in my dreams but was unable to awaken me. How false my promise must seem to those talented actors and actresses, courageously struggling to artfully present the humor and pathos of bird and animal life to their fellow creatures. Lift up your tails, fluff your quills. An hour or two more preening and I'll be on my way to breakfast and California.