This fellow certainly had thoughts of love yesterday and was doing his best to impress the ladies. What had caught my attention was not his flashy finery, but the thump and drag of his wings beating on the ground. He marched with measured step down the hill toward the objects of his affection, turning this way and that, ruffling his feathers and engorging his wattle so the ladies could better admire his manly physique and attributes. Sadly, it was all for naught. The girls pointedly ignored him and not even the squirrel looked up.
Eventually the hens just drifted away down into the woods, leaving Himself puffed up and disappointed. He evidently gave it up as a lost cause, deflated his costume, and consoled himself with a lonely bite of breakfast.
Not every love story has a happy ending. Sigh.
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