They Are Here

Yes. They have been here for quite a while now. At first in the early spring, you see one or two or three of them as they hop about in the bare fields or upon the frozen pavement, jumping into the stiff still-cold wind searching for unfrozen worms or unhatched insects or leftover seeds, berries, french fry scraps . . . Then they come in droves. They head for large patches of grass: parks, the lawns of mega-churches, mowed fields. And there they sit, blank sinister eyes, pointed beaks, their demonic red breasts puffed out, all of them, tens, twenties, hundreds, a thousand or more, all in the grass watching, watching, watching . . .

Yes, I am talking about robins!

Then their numbers--thankfully--winnow. They must move on to other parts of the island, or to other islands or perhaps continents, yet many--many!--remain here until the cold cold frosty winter winds gratefully sweep them away for that most wonderful season of the year.

Here, look for yourself:

I realize they look small and innocent in these fuzzy photos, but I did not dare get any closer. I often wonder if these birds do not work for The Apparatus--they spy, they are spying birds, they watch and record all things at all times. I just know it.


I did, however, work up enough courage to get the next shot to reveal how horrid and demonic these puffy little birds really are:

How repugnantly frightening!




Goodbye from Soybean Island