Who's To Say?

"Normal" is such a relative term, subject to the situation.  On opening the grain bucket yesterday, it seemed perfectly natural to me that the little mouse inside would climb trustingly into my hand to be lifted out.  To some, that behavior might not be normal for either the mouse or for me.  Who's to say?

In my late 30s I bought a motorcycle that had to be delivered to the house.  I'd never driven one.  Normal?  I learned, and the concentration required and the freedom provided helped me through some rough days.

In my 40s, I started a muffler and welding business, never having looked under a car before and with no idea of how to weld.  Normal?  I went to welding school, thinking I couldn't supervise employees if I didn't know that they were doing a good job.

In my 60s, I bought dairy goats.  Other than at the fair, I'd never been close to a goat of any kind.  There are those who think I'm a nutter because I milk every day and tend the herd at an age when many are playing mahjong and watching the soaps.

Yesterday the squatty-fluttery sparrow was back on the deck at the same time and in the same place as before, doing her strange little dance.  Is that normal?  Who's to say.