My friend Gayle, whose brother is a birder, got me the information a while back about the bird whose song I found so entertaining. I thought it was multiple birds, but it turns out that it was a Carolina Wren with a very full tummy. These are tiny, adorable little brown feathered birds with a repertoire of song, and what I read said that they will sing continuously for up to 30 minutes after a good meal. My kind of bird!
Unfortunately, Dave’s kind of bird, too. I went out to get the mail today, and there inside one of the sandals I’d left outside the door to dry off from the beach, was a little feathered body. Audrey said she would give the cat a stern talking-to, which I told her would have little or no effect. Hubby tried to console us with the thought that the bird was probably too sick or injured to escape Dave. I assured him that the cat had amazing predatory skills. Audrey agreed. . .”Dave has mad skills” she told us. We’ll start calling him Napoleon, I guess.