Peanut

This morning I sat out with a mug of tea, watching the scrub jay pair gather all the peanuts put out. I sat just two feet away, and still they flapped in, and away so close I felt the whoosh of the air from their wings. Then I could hear them in the tree, shelling the peanut, which is a funny noise, when you know what it is.

And I thought about my young self, who so wanted to be Dr. Doolittle, or Jane Goodall, or St. Francis, with all the animals trusting me. But I was full of my father's rage, and a child - which meant a lot of animals were going to be wary just about my age. I sat with her, and let her feel the bird so close, a cat in the window behind, and the assurance that dogs now love me to ruffle their ears.

I walk among the birds and bees and wasps. Mosquitos rarely bother with me.



She is reassured, if impatient. She'll get to me.