Saturday, February 27, 2016 - (150 w.)
Standing on a large balcony, wide and deep, almost a terrace, I lean on the bannister. It's a lovely day. There are birds sitting around me on the bannister. I look at the one sitting on the right from me. It has a snotty beak. It's black. I tell this small bird that it should clean up, because this will draw the attention of another type of bird who likes that. The little bird tells me "no" and "why".
Too late. The big bird down on the ground has already noticed it. This bird is as tall as a human, or taller. It walked up to the bannister, puts its beak over the beak of the smaller bird and guzzles up the black substance. Then leaves.
I notice some of the remarkable features of this big bird. It has arms with hands like todlers would draw them.
The small birds shakes it off. It tells me that it was not a pleasant experience and that it hurd. Well, now it knows.
What's up with these birds? I don't know.
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