I am writing you from a makeshift hunting blind on the outer edge of my backyard. My sons Silas and August sit cross-legged beside me in the cool grass. Silas holds a yellow mason’s string tied to a twig 30 yards away. The twig props a cardboard box leaning upside down over rabbit pellets. Rabbit pellets are great for catching rabbits.
We are trying to catch a bird.
I’m not sure if it’s a symptom of quarantine or not, but for the last three days Silas has had owning a pet bird stuck in his brain. Ideally a parrot. A robin or cardinal will have to do for now. It would take the patience of a rock to wait around for the first wild parrot siting in Tennessee, let alone to catch it (using rabbit pellets).
Now, I know nothing short of 10 miracles is require for my kids to bag even a turtle. But I’ve got to tell you, the morale around here has never been higher. For the moment (it’s been about 15 minutes) the loom of a global pandemic has lifted. All that’s in the air is hope.