Nothing to Grouse About

You'd think that when my mountain ash, which has been suffering at the hands (beaks?) of woodpeckers and bugs for the last ten years, is attacked by a marauding grouse, I would be upset.

Right?

Well, not when he looks so innocent:

Don't let this handsome fellow fool you, though.  He's on a mission, and it's serious.

It's a raid!

The last thing this tree needs is to have those juicy, tasty leaf buds taken in the middle of Winter:

When I confronted him about it, this grouse didn't have much to say.  He's excellent under pressure, well trained by whatever spy agency sent him into our country.  He just sat there, challenging me with his cold, hard stare until I had to back down.

Makes me appreciate how trivial my daily struggle with certain complex software systems really is, in the big picture.

And Now I Lay me Down to Sleep ...

Well, it looks like it must be winter, because I see Orion high in the sky outside my window.  I don't know how it is, but there is something comforting about the onset of this season, and those early nights when the great Hunter rises to watch over those of us that dwell in the northern hemisphere.  I can almost feel his presence.

The fire in the grate dims, and even Tess has stopped purring and is huddling close for warmth.  I ask myself, What have I done for her lately?  Dished out a can of wet food, cleaned the litter pan, washed the water fountain.  And what has she done for me?  Only offered me the simple, unconditional, absolute affection of one of nature's most perfect animals.  I feel that I have got the better part of this exchange.