My imagination, being a sometimes strange and dark place, began to wander, to form the "what ifs."
What if someone lived in that grove of cottonwood trees? And what if that someone were to feed those large black birds much like one might feed the wrens and cardinals?
...and so, Fresh Meat came into being...
Mary shook her head as she took a sip of lemonade. Her eyes on the birds, "No, Timmy, my darlings only like a certain kind of meat." - Copyright - Ingrid Foster 2015