A Sparrow Tale

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, but that is a different tale.(*) Actually it was feeding time. (be sure to click on photos for a good look)

Here is little Junior, head protruding from the right side of this two-family home. Mouth wide open and squeakily chirping up a storm.  "FEED ME!"  Sitting on a perch in the lower right of this photo is Mama. She is studiously ignoring the plaintive mewling of her offspring.

Observing from a safe distance are two older ladies. They are not-too-discretely discussing their shock at the behavior of Mama. "I would never let my baby holler like that!" says the lady on the left. The lady on the right agrees. "Well, I never!! A terrible mother! She should be ashamed."

Ah! Who do we have here? It's Papa. Resting for just a moment, as Mama (extreme left) carries on a non-stop critique of her husband's poor work ethic. "That child has been squawking for at least 5 minutes. Where have you been? Off with Fred and Charlie? Staring at those young chicks that fledged last week? You should be ashamed of yourself. Get back to work and feed our baby!"

"Yes, dear," Papa says meekly. "Okay, Junior, open wide." Papa sighs, as his wife flies off to meet the girls for bunco.

"Chow down, kid," Papa says. "NomNomNomNom," Junior chirps. The ladies on the fence ruffle their feathers and shake their heads in unison.  "The poor man," one says.

And so ends this tale.


(*) A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.