the incredible tolerance of some critters in a what'cha callit....patch of forest

a squirrel gets used to going every week to the same place under the same tree. squirrel knows a beautiful bird that comes to the same branch every week at the same time. beautiful bird does something to the leaf at the end of a very thin branch. with small fresh nut dangling from it. squirrel often tried to get the fresh nut himself, but, the branch is so thin it bends and drops squirrel before he can reach it. so, he waits patiently for beautiful bird to drop him the freshest of nuts. it was as though squirrel was in love with the partnership. squirrel was. and beautiful bird was too. she enjoyed the expression on squirrels face when he bit into the fresh nut.



well, after a couple of seasons of the same thing. beautiful bird decides to throw the nut, not onto the forest floor like before, but onto squirrels head. it hurt his head alot. but, he didnt seem to mind. as long as got his fresh nut. 10 years of getting hit on the head with a fresh nut. 10 years of pleading to beautiful bird to let the fresh nut drop onto the forest ground. 10 years a lump on the head. yet, the nut is so fresh.



squirrel comes again and again to the same tree. with the same bird. the same love. the same torture. each time in preparation for the drop. squirrel would look up on hind legs, head back, eyes closed. breathing in thru his little squirrel nose. out his mouth, passing thru the storage cheeks giving breath of not so fresh nuts. eyes rolling back in calm kneeling position. arms apart extended toward the sky. embracing the anticipation. sure squirrel has other things to do. but waiting, and patience, and tolerance become the love.

knock. another on the head. another plea. other things to do.
then, there is the washing machine...old style. a large bucket of castille soap water with a wash board for agitation. and the vertical stacked pinch rollers. that pinch the water out of cloth...then hang them out to dry. the clothes. to dry in the mid day sun and breezes. down wind blows the smell of castille smelling like a particularly delicious salad dressing for a good nut.

when the lady drains the dirty laundry water. then saves the freshest water and soap for the most delicate of night gowns. sir squirrel lick his lips, but inavertantly, his toungue gets caught in the pinch roller. which squeezes the sqirrel tongue thru creating an engorged yet flat and 2 dimensional beginning of a nutty digestive track.

squirrel would look up on hind legs, head back, eyes closed. breathing in thru his little squirrel nose. out his mouth, passing thru the storage cheeks giving breath of not so fresh nuts. eyes rolling back in calm kneeling position. arms apart extended toward the sky. embracing the anticipation. sure squirrel has other things to do. but waiting, and patience, and tolerance become the love.

knock. another on the head. another plea. other things to do.
during the annual migration over the gulf of mexico, beautiful bird lands on a ship. with cult like precision, the cast of the ship are making a reenactment of a ship of slave rowing huge oars, and being whipped by one huge hooded brute. its hard for beautiful bird to see who is enjoying their roles more. one big whipper or many wimpy whippees. beautiful bird landed on the big whippers shoulder and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. then the other ear. then the whiney wimpey whippees. in both ears. now, beautiful bird knows who is enjoying their roles more.

beautiful bird and the entire ship of wierdos, would look up with chest out, head back, eyes closed. breathing in thru his little bird nose. out his beak, passing thru the beak giving breath of not so fresh seeds. eyes rolling back in calm kneeling position. wings apart extended toward the sky. embracing the anticipation. sure the ship mates and bird have other things to do. but waiting, and patience, and tolerance become the love.