And Then There Were Four; the addition of a cactus wren
And Then There Were Four; the addition of a cactus wren There’s a bird sitting in my planter, inside my house on the window sill in the south facing window. The planter is home to a three-year-old basil plant, a gift from Claire, and a one-year-old mint, which is attempting to overtake everything else; basil and bird. Mint is like that. But the bird, a cactus wren, is oblivious to the overtures of the mint. She’s the newest addition to the home and the least demanding; barely a breath, she is, in the little planter on the windowsill in my tiny home. Po, the little pooch, is enamored with her. Every time the wren shakes her feathers, every twenty minutes or so, he perks up. “What’s that? There it is again! I wanna see, wanna, see, wanna see see see.” His tail wags and his muscles are taught. For five minutes he is earnest. Then he gets cuddly against my thigh until the next feather fluffing kerfuffle. I have let Po sniff at her but h