Day 3
This morning the alarm went off at 7, then 3 minutes later the machine-gun pecking on the drain pipe started.
My whole perspective has changed. For the first time, I felt Woody and I were working together. Woody cannot change what he is, or thousands of years of evolution (apologies to any creationists), or wanting to get laid. But he can change some of his behavior, and he did. That extra hour makes all the difference.
The parallels with 2+2 were not lost on me. Here's this young hothead full of testosterone, pecking as loud as he can, using excellent tree selection, hammering on about his skills and what a good-looking bird he is and how all the other birds suck, and just working his little butt off trying to find a Mrs. Woody who will show him some love and still let him hang with the boys most nights.
He needs a name. Any ideas?
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