Back on the surface, Robin and Crow were deep in a conversation about the vagaries of raising a new generation every year. (Just imagine if our children grew up in a single year and then we started over the next year).
“I remember three seasons back hatching a brood of chicks that I call ‘the generation from hell’,” Robin said with a shudder
.
“Our ‘hell generation’ was just last year,” Crow responded. “I will never forget when the three of them attacked a pack of coyotes. They said afterward that the coyotes started it. All I know is that one coyote left missing an eye!”
“Oh my God, that’s awful!” Robin could think of nothing better to say. And so the discussion died a natural death.
*******
Underneath them, Worm had resolved his moral dilemma and knew just what to do.
(to be con’t)
“I remember three seasons back hatching a brood of chicks that I call ‘the generation from hell’,” Robin said with a shudder
.
“Our ‘hell generation’ was just last year,” Crow responded. “I will never forget when the three of them attacked a pack of coyotes. They said afterward that the coyotes started it. All I know is that one coyote left missing an eye!”
“Oh my God, that’s awful!” Robin could think of nothing better to say. And so the discussion died a natural death.
*******
Underneath them, Worm had resolved his moral dilemma and knew just what to do.
(to be con’t)
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