it must be an incessant drain on your constitution to have a pointed beak. talk about lips- what lips? and no, I cannot ever imagine having to tear to sheds every piece of meat and then swallow it whole. that is not what I would call “a pleasant way to live.”
still, you have to admit, the cardinal is one classy bird. he never has to brush or comb anything, and there is no need to consider a choice of hat on a rainy day. and he always looks smart. contemplative even. you get a sense of intelligence just from looking in that fine feathered face.
it is a pity that we cannot flit from branch to branch, take in the grand world below, or arrange for a ceremonial dropping on one’s neighbor’s car…or stinky cat, whichever is most available. there are those who claim that we one day will be able to fly in That Land Beyond, but i suppose there will never be opportunities to “splash out” on someone’s vehicle at that point….which is another pity.
but, and here is the big but…what in the world do birds think about when they are flying up in the sky, or sitting on that perch looking so intelligent? your cardinal here appeared to be a regular Stephen Hawking, though there are no bird brain tests that we can use to verify that. that would likely be decided by a congress of cardinals, and we all know that does not bode well, as there always tends to be a lot of smoke and bother as a result.
we know that they carry on intelligent conversations, with particular nuances, unlike some larger birds which tend to crap all over the world stage. my little chickadee, who is no longer with us, and who has flown off to some distant locale where there are more dirty birds, used to chirp for hours. although she sounded like a happy bird, it is obvious she sought warmer climes, and I do hope she has not become shrill all-the-live long-day. for birds that age tend to get shrill when they feel threatened, lose their voice, or find out that their partner is actually the prettier bird, which obviously is a shock for most female cardinals…
I do not care to be the prettier bird, as I have standards, and do not wildly got out on a limb for anything remotely unsafe. no, I find my adventures on the ground, in the woods, or inside a structure unlike a box. for a box is meant only for a bird brain, as we have all been taught to think outside the box…I hope. I know I did my part for many years, arguing that life should not be contained and that one should never be caged. that is why I prefer free range, where one can find solace at the right moment behind a shady tree in the summer time if one chooses. and it is on that note, that bird song, that, like my cardinal friend, I must fly away to …my nest for the night.