Rick’s fabulous mother-in-law, Jane, says that in her latter years, my Granny Lever ate like a baby bird.
I always thought this was referring to the quantity of food she ate.
After watching this wholesome little family of Turdus migratorius in the eaves of our Teton Valley south porch go through feeding time, I now find myself confident that’s exactly what my mom meant.
Granny Lever never ate like this!
Besides the ruthless stomping underfoot of less successful siblings…
… there was a LOT of loud, demanding behavior exhibited…
… over dining fare that kept trying to crawl back over top of the parental unit’s head.
The hollering did not stop until the demands were met.
I never heard so much as a peep of gratitude. I thought I caught a muted burp of satisfaction from young Mr. Greedy Guts, although that could just as easily have been a hiccup of resignation from one of the two stompees on the left.
Once fed, though, the faint resemblance of baby birds to aged diners kicked in in a new way for me: nothing better to do than lay back for a quick nap and let someone else take out the garbage.
And now the Latin nomenclature is all falling into place…