Fiction

Jeremiah

Line of Strawberries

Jeremiah the magpie was jubilant. He loved strawberries.  Jeremiah wasn’t a picky eater.  He would eat just about anything that was lying about—eggs, insects, nuts, or even scraps.  They were all much the same to him.  But there was nothing quite so delicious as that juicy red fruit.

They look like red rubies nestled in their green mat.  And the way they sparkled and glistened after a dew  was a sight worth remembering.

Jeremiah was known to like a bit of dazzle in his life.  His nest was festooned with shiny treasures such as odd pieces of glass, jewelry, and metal that he had found.  Sometimes he could catch is reflection in their surfaces.  He was such a handsome bird.  And didn’t he know it.

Each spring Jeremiah would fly over the secret place in the forest where the strawberries grew waiting for them to ripen.  He would watch as the tiny white flowers changed into baby albino berries and then grow into succulent gems.  Then—and only then—he would swoop in and eat his fill.

Jeremiah was jubilant because today was that day.  He was so agitated as he was preparing for his flight, hopping about and chattering to himself, that the other birds became quite concerned for his well being.  So much so, they decided to follow him.

Jeremiah was usually very careful not to let the other birds see where he was going.  But today, in his excitement, he flew straight to the patch.

He was so focused on his goal that at first he didn’t notice he had company.  But soon, the chirping and rustling of feathers other than his own caught his attention.  Looking around Jeremiah saw that his wonderful patch was filled with birds.

“Oh well,” thought Jeremiah, “nothing to be done about it now,” and he went back to eating.

Line of Strawberries

Moral: Good things are worth waiting for
or
Magpies can’t keep secrets.

Published: January 5, 2011

Cows on Hills

Row of Cows

Odd Interstate Questions:
Why are all those cows on top of the hill?

Row of CowsOut on the wide prairie a small clump of cows were grazing in their usual lackadaisical way—grass tasting pretty much the same here as there—except for Ellie, who was wandering about on  her own.

Ellie had always been different. For one thing, she had a bell. Every cow knew to keep an ear out for her and make sure she didn’t get too far off. After all, sticking together is what cows are supposed to do.

Another difference was—she wasn’t a flower. All the cows except for Ellie were named for flowers. There was Clover, Dandelion, Zinnia and Daisy, among others.

“Where do you suppose she is going now?” asked Daisy.

“Not a clue,” replied Clover.

Still, they all moseyed after her ringing bell because cows stick together. That is what cows do.

On the great prairie where the land sprawls in flat vistas for miles on end, a small knoll can be like a mountain. It just so happened that on the edge of the pasture was such a knoll. It had lost much of its appeal when the interstate highway sliced through it several years back. But it was a knoll, no denying.

The herd trailed Ellie up the knoll and were soon knotted together on the very tip top. There was almost enough space for all to fit if they didn’t move about much.

“Does anyone know what we are doing here?” asked Daisy.

“Not so much,” replied Zinnia.

“I just came for the view,” said Ellie.

Row of Cows

Moral: Sometimes the smallest change can make the biggest difference.
or:
Following without question may get you little more than a scenic tour.

Published: January 2, 2011