Short Interlude...."Fingers crossed"...

Have known this little fella for almost five years now, named him Blackie for obvious reasons. Comes here every day, two or three times for his food. Trusts us, I guess...But I worry for him 'cause the shoot starts next Wednesday. Forty guns shooting the crap out of anything that flies within range. If Blackie makes it through to the end of January, reckon we'll celebrate with one, helluva party! But the odds are against him, he's getting old, not so quick on the wing anymore...bit like me; likes to sit in the sun and remember, (wind up the gramaphone)... "When you and I were young, Maggie..."