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A Poem: The Bird in the Hand

Demas is of the opinion that a good sense of humor, mixed with an open cheerfulness, is enough to make an introvert into an extrovert.

"One for the money, two for the show!"

Growing a little "bush" of my own here.

Growing a little "bush" of my own here.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

I have about 15 quail that love to be in my bush.

The boxwood that lines my driveway

is mixed with wild roses and bridle wreath.

(It looks glorious each springtime.)

I haven't eaten any of the Gamble's Quail,

But a very young neighbor said that he had

"ate two delicious chicken the other day!"

At the time that was going on, I had a cat named Mau-Mau,

and saw quail chicks sitting on his back one day.

(He was definitely not embodying the terrorists he was named after!)

Before Mau-Mau passed away beside me at age 23,

the wild rose part of the hedge had trapped another cat,

probably being punished for his evil intent toward the quail.

Acknowledging his cries of agony, I engineered his release.

Those and other actual, open battle wounds were treated,

and Chubby joined my household, while not allowed to

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endanger aging Mau-Mau.

A cat in the bush had thus become a cat in hand.

Chubby turned out to be the equivalent of two cats in the bush.

He weighs 20 pounds! He is muscular, and still semi-wild,

even scratching and biting the hands (and arms) of his provider.

At other times climbing onto my lap and contentedly purring.

We haven't quite established who is boss yet.

Those who have, or have had, cats know that never quite gets resolved.

Now that Chubby is confined indoors, the quail are safe again,

although I have yet to have one in the hand,

and still have 15 in the bush.




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