A fatter, sleeker, and faster Halibut writes now from the cover of lush foliage. All this month, the merlins have been screaming at each other from rival spruce-top nests. The sparrows have been too stupid to live in more than occasional terror. It is reassuring to know that the world, that way, does not change.
Gooney and Bhiksu have tried to keep up, as you may see.
(Yes, yes, I know it's on its side, but then I am cat. Cope with it.)
Even the humans have been killing things. I must admit I had a shock the other evening when I overhead them, grouped around the metal box in which they burn their prey. "Grilled Halibut." Fortunately, it was just a joke. They had caught some sort of inferior bird and were doing their best to disguise the flavour by dousing it with a black powder and a yellow liquid. I am too refined to mention the words 'dirt' and 'piss'.
