What Do I Know About Twigs?

I sat in the slight shade of the Ash tree in the afternoon. I was resting and viewing the land.

Down the block, the Grackles were coughing and snorting. Overhead, a male Cardinal was singing. In the still-bare Crepe Myrtle behind me, I heard the chirp of a Titmouse. I turned to look.

With its tuft lit slightly orange by the afternoon sun, it sat on a branch and looked down at me. I sat still. It hopped to another branch and then another. And then it bit a twig growing out of the branch. It yanked once and yanked again, but the twig did not come free. The Titmouse hopped to another branch and bit another twig. Yanking and pulling, this one did not let go, either.

I thought to myself, silly bird. There are all these twigs on the ground. So many to choose from. Bird, come take some of these. They are yours. But no, the Titmouse hopped to another branch with a third twig.

I rolled my eyes to myself.

And then that third twig snapped free.

What do I know about twigs?

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