The birds hereabouts are birding, rutting, whatever it is the birdies do when they do it. And the ones who are done with mating are building nests in the still barren trees. This morning, early, a robin who looked to be the size of a Buick walked across my lawn as if he was surveying the property. Soon perhaps, my doorbell will ring and a bird will offer to buy my house. “I’m not selling,” I’d say. And the bird would say “Sell or be occupied, it’s up to you.” “What have you done with Tippi Hendren?” By the by, did you know that birds can snarl?
The wildlife is healthy here in the Iowa River Valley and on this last day of March you can hear it stirking and crunking and humping. Even the nascent grass chatters in a grassy patois. Why shouldn’t it? Lucky nature, I say. Nature takes care of itself. Nature has its freedom to talk without history. That’s why it sounds so good. The red tailed hawk flying just 50 yards from my roof doesn’t care about the Eiffel Tower. He can snarl when he’s hungry. He can see a mouse on a boulder from a thousand years ago.
Andrew Marvell was born on this day in 1621. This has been a good day for poets and writers. All of the following were sprung on this day:
Let me also point out that Cesar Chavez was born on March 31.
To hell with the Eiffel Tower. That it opened on this date in history is small beans.
Tippi Hendren was not born on this day. But I’ll bet that on this date in history she was fighting off the advances of Alfred HItchcock. Poor woman. It was bad enough to be stalked by birds…
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 
While wandering the aisles of Ollie’s, one of those bargain discount stores with Everything In It, I ran across a Barbie version of Ms. Hendren, complete with birds attached to her. Were I not such a cheapskate I woulda bought it.
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