Ninja Pajamas, and other good things.

So, I chickened out. I found the aforementioned birds nest, with four ecru eggs covered in brown speckles. I was on the phone with S at the time, and I very deeply considered the implications of stomping it to peices. Several things held me back. First of all, eggs are gooey, not to mention, I have no idea what stage of the goo-to-egg conversion the little birds were. I've seen dead baby chickens come out of a "farm fresh" egg before, and ugh, ugh, ugh, it's not something you want on your shoe. Then, I had just finished watching the first few minutes of one of those animal cop shows. The inevitability of those shows is they uncover cases of abuse and neglect, and show those poor suffering animals. So, I was fresh from bawling my eyes out over a puppy that had been starved to about a quarter of its natural weight (and was found still alive, but too late to save it). I had also just finished ranting about how cruel people can be, how they can look at something so fragile, precious, and pure, and deny it sustenance.

So, out in the field by my house is a little clutch of four intact very lovely bird eggs that will grow and develop, and likely being feral, will live out their lives crapping on my car.

Thank you Discovery Channel. Stupid, stupid soft heart of mine!