about birds

Ah, we female birds
so plain and dull
sitting upon our nests
obliged to keep our eggs warm
and what do you do
fly off with your freshly preened
brilliant red plumage
to seduce another dull female
while we colorless squatters
do not complain
understanding the urge to wander
is in your nature
so we dust-feathered, will teach troops of earnest chicks
and you will be crowned master of ceremony
for a parade of dull females
red-crested woodpeckerI was just light-hearting the prose up a bit – no offense to many a good man.¬† ūüôā
Red-crested woodpecker done with watercolor marker and Prisma pencil a few weeks ago

The Talking Mushroom and the Little Red Fox

Dear Friends,
There once lived a little red fox-



Her auburn fur edged¬†with gold, flickered in the sunlight whenever she ran about the forest. She was smart and lovely, yet she was unhappy. Though she could do all things in perfect fox-form, she dreamt of¬†being a kangaroo. Daily she practiced graceful long jumps. The¬†little red fox could even leap much higher than her older brothers.¬†But¬†this amazing athletic prowess, didn’t¬†satiate her bounding appetite. She wanted to be a kangaroo. One misty morning with dew saturating her delicate toes, the little red fox¬†came upon a purple-spotted¬†mushroom. It was a purple-spotted fungus, the likes of which she’d never seen.

“My dear child,” bubbled the purple-spotted mushroom from his damp earthen throne, “you are unhappy.”

“Yes,” replied the little fox, not even a bit concerned she was talking to a purple-spotted fungus.

“I can make you happy,” whispered the mushroom low, as not to share his¬†secret.

“How?” asked the little red¬†fox, unable to contain¬†her excitement.

“One bite of me and your dream¬†will come true.”

The little red fox wasted not a moment, she chomped on the purple-spotted mushroom. When she awoke next¬†morning, she could not push up on her strong front paws as she done all the previous days of her life. She rolled to her¬†side, then much to her surprise, sprang up. So forceful was the¬†leap, she soared¬†fifty feet across the forest floor. The little red fox¬†landed by a large puddle that had collected between gnarly¬†tree roots and rock. She caught her reflection in the shimmering water. Her wish had been granted – her dream realized. Instead of being jubilant for the change, she sobbed mightily. She was neither a¬†little red¬†fox nor a complete¬†kangaroo…

fox:kangaThere was once a snowman who wished he was a fox-

Snow Fox

Snow Fox

Hope you enjoyed my little fable.
Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of being content¬†in your own skin…

(Fox Up Close: Prisma, 2000,  Foxroo: acrylic on canvas, 1999,  Snowman with Fox Mask: Prisma, two days ago)