Meadow Musings

That is one big foot.  I am glad that we did not meet the giant moosey owner of the foot while we were walking.

At the top of the trail there was a big giant ledge, which I think is fun but Aaron thinks is dizzying.  We took a little nap, which ended when a wet snuffly snowy dog came and introduced himself to my cheek. 

Bruce Goose is in the hoosegaw.  "But why?" you may ask.  He killed a man just to watch him die.  Oh wait, hold on.  That's not it.  Oh yeah, it's because he's clumsy and he hurt himself.   If you have ever seen Bruce walk around, you will not be surprised.  His feet are clown-shoe huge, and although he is the size of a full-grown duck, he is still only 3 weeks old.  He steps on himself a lot and falls over when he tries to scratch his head. 


At some point a few nights ago he stumbled on himself in the night and started limping.  We're not sure if it's a sprain or a pinched nerve or what, but it doesn't really matter because all bird injuries are treated the same:  keep the bird warm and fed and don't let them limp around all over the place.  So Bruce is in prison.  He's getting better; he gets water therapy (AKA a warm bath) every day where he can use his leg a little without putting any weight on it. 

He doesn't mind prison too much because all of the other birds sleep right near his prison walls when they're outside together, and he's got grass to eat.  He doesn't mind much of anything as long as there's fresh green grass to munch on.