Ray and Me

There's refrain in one of Ray Stevens's old songs that goes, "They're everywhere!  They're everywhere!"  Everywhere I looked yesterday morning there were open mouths waiting to be fed, starting with the chicks in the laundry room.  They'd completely emptied their feeding trough and they were yeeping at the top of their lungs.  They've outgrown their shoebox boudoir; twelve or thirteen packed in like sardines and the remaining three or four huddling on the outside at bedtime, so the box was removed.

Out of three feeders, this was the only one with any juice for the breakfast crowd.  In the only sunshine of the day, these emerald and ruby jewels flashed while I filled the other bottles for the buzz-bombing others. 

While I was tending the hummers, this tom turkey was loudly demanding service.  Feeling much like a waitress at a truck stop during rush hour, I tried explaining I'd be with him in a moment, but that didn't shut him up.  Pearl was at my feet as I threw down the grain; it mattered not.  He didn't even wait for us to step away before beginning his breakfast.

Down in the barn, Poppy was bellowing in her dulcet tones and the others were bleating for their breakfast.  I apologized that I was running late because of all the other mouths to feed, put Cindy up on the stand and let the others out to go get their alfalfa appetizers.  Just starting to milk Cindy as she was eating, I caught sight of this ground squirrel munching on the mice's cereal.

Thus my day begins, surrounded by gaping maws waiting to be fed.  It could be worse.