Little Dirty Birdie's Feet

When I found these little birdie tracks across our back porch, the first thing I thought of was the grade-school song that goes something like this:

Great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts,
Mutilated monkey meat,
Little dirty birdies feet,
French-fried eyeballs floating in a pool of blood,
And me without a spoon.


I probably shouldn't have mentioned that.