“Whoa!” I’m flying. The wind on my face is a little stronger than I’m accustomed to, but who cares. This is really fun. Way off in the distance, dew’s shimmering on corn stalks in this crisp, Iowa morning.
“Stay close to home, Dear,” my mom chirps from our nest in the huge cottonwood tree. Her concerned voice fades behind me as I soar in the breeze, feeling the wind lift my wings, and experiencing the freedom to go anywhere I want.
I’m not so careless that I’d get lost, however. Especially since flying is one thing and eating is another. I practically eat my body weight each day, and I’m not in charge of that yet. Eating? Yea, I do that. But I’m not the one getting the food. Now that I think about it, when’s the last time I munched on a long, tasty earth worm?
“Bird to base. Bird to base. Comin’ in for chow now.” Slowly. Slowly. Touch down!