I keep a reminder on my phone and laptop that says, “Write something today.” That way if I pick up my phone, it’s front and center. If I open my laptop, it’s glaring at me right in the face.
It doesn’t say, “Write something today and post it.”
Just: write something today.
Anything.
An observation, no matter how small.
Most days I do.
There are times I wish I did post what I wrote more.
Maybe people would find the observations interesting or be inspired to do something similar. I think everyone should write.
You see the world differently when you write about it each day.
There’s a power behind it all.
Perspective building.
A therapeutic effect.
Here’s one: I nicknamed the youngest crow who visits our house each day Oscar. He (or she… I have no idea which) is a fledgling born this spring. He’s already as big as his siblings that take care of him and show him the ropes.
Oscar is molting now. He looks like an undersized black vulture as a result.
I think he’s going to be a smart fellow. He’s been using the bird bath to dip his food and soften it for a solid month now. It’s a trick he learned from Mr. Jones who is his primary caretaker.
Mangled Foot (aka Runt) is the sentinel of the group, always keeping an eye out while Oscar studies his environment and gets first dibs on the food — after Mr. Jones, of course.
Yesterday evening they spied a feral cat hanging out near the tree-line. It’s a big Garfield-looking cat with thick, bushy hair.
The crows went nuts.
Caw, caw, caw!
No telling when that cat went wild. What his backstory is. I’ve seen him for years in the woods and climbing in and out drain holes.
He’s not terrified of humans at all. He’s not happy to see you either. Gives you a look like, “You want some of me?”
Nope.
I don’t know when your last rabies shot was.
The cat eats well, wherever it gets its food.
Someone may leave a saucer out each day.
Who knows.
But I think his belly is mostly full of small birds and squirrels.
The squirrels were none too happy to see him either.
Or the Carolina wren.
Or the cardinals.
Or the Blue Jays.
None.
Every animal alarm you can think of was going off in the woods behind my house yesterday evening.
I assumed it was the sly fox slinking about again.
Nope. Just a gigantic, wild-eyed cat that went off-grid some time ago when his owner moved or died or the cat decided to go Jack Kerouac and hit the road on his own.
So, that’s what I’m writing about today.
What happened in your neck of the woods?
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