Since
goldenmoonbear is prone to posting my embarrassing incidents, let me tell you about her ungodly obsession: talking to cowbirds. Friday night we went to the Spangenberg to see "Orwell Rolls In His Grave" (which was not 2 hours of footage of Orwell rolling in his grave as we had hoped.) The ticket booth was outside, nearby was a cowbird. I had already gone
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Just the other day I talked to a crow in the parking lot of Wal-Mart. "Hey, what are you doing here, buddy?" (Crows don't typically frequent the parking lot there. They tend to hang out in the woods adjacent to the store cawing and being hilarious while my friends the gulls laugh and galavant around the lot itself.)
And why is a cowbird a "bad" parasite? A parasitic breeder, yes, but at least it's a native species to N. America unlike the Euro. Starling, and it's breeding habits are simply a smart adaptation to its following herds of buffalo, that's all.
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She was calling it a bad parasite while feeding it and nursing it back to health, so I'm sure she didn't mean it any ill will.
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My mom actually "hates" cowbirds because of their parasitic breeding habits, which I find highly odd, since it's merely a survival skill. I think brown-headeds are ever so gorgeous!
You still are convince "anon" is me, aren't you?
Funny.
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I once attempted to teach Gabriel to light cigarettes. That was back in the day, when I thought smoking would make me more like Wilbur. Anyway, I think Gabriel had seen an anti-smoking comercial on TV because he began to use his dexterous tail smash cylindrical white objects.
So now all I can do to be like Wilbur is answer the telephone with a less than enthusiastic "Yellow"
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Maybe he got them confused with dragons.
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