I hate birds. It all started when as children my brothers and I watched Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein and liked being a little scared. My Mom brought home Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds thinking it would be on par with Abbott and Costello. It wasn't. Gave us nightmares. Now we all have a good chuckle over my sweet Mom bringing home such horror, but I am scarred for life. I hate those flying menaces. Feathered friends, my foot! So now that I have laid out all the drama, we took M and J to the park to feed ducks and geese. Scary stuff, I tell you! Grampy, Grammy, Steve, M, and J loved their hands on experience while I made sure to dodge any bird that got too curious.
Honorable mention: In the midst of all the chaos this tiny duckling held its own. Jumping in the fray repeatedly, it battled geese to capture tiny glutenous morsels.
Steve fed geese right out of his hands. I love you, Babe, but don't touch me. Deathly birds have licked your fingers.
J couldn't quite figure out what the fowl were up to.
Honorable mention: In the midst of all the chaos this tiny duckling held its own. Jumping in the fray repeatedly, it battled geese to capture tiny glutenous morsels.
Steve fed geese right out of his hands. I love you, Babe, but don't touch me. Deathly birds have licked your fingers.
Back at Gramy and Grammy's house we enjoyed a late night treat.
Costco cheesecake, anyone?
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