Sweet as Song

The large blackbird landed with a screech atop the high post fence. From his perch, he cocked his head sideways, surveying the long porch that ran the length of the pool. It was scattered with an array of items from last night’s party: empty and half-full glasses of champagne, beaded necklaces, discarded masks, and half-eaten food. Damn, but Fat Tuesday was one big party.

The crow looked about. No one. They were all sleeping inside after their night of drunken revelry. With ease, the determined blackbird flew to a chair where he plucked a bright turquoise feather from a mask. He’d hit the jackpot.

Arriving back at the nest, the bird found his mate resting comfortably on four bluish-green eggs. It wouldn’t be long before they’d have a full house. With care, he loosed the feather into the nest, right next to the beads and coins he’d pilfered earlier.

The mother bird squawked her approval, quite pleased by her lover’s newest gift. All the other blackbirds and expectant mothers should be so lucky. It wasn’t everyday one’s spouse stole such expensive, pretty trinkets.

The father-to-be puffed out his chest, proud of the home he’d built. Life was sweet as song.