I reckon I need a hard hat, Darrol.

Last week Eva goes and puts up a bunch of plastic thingy-ma-jigs all over the place that look like them old-timey gum ball machines.

Then she fills ’em up with some pink stuff that puts me in mind of that disgustin’ cream soda a feller mite get thirstin’ after evry ten years or so.

In less than a minnit this tiny wee bird shows up, about the size and shape of one of them suppose-atory things the doctor gives you when you aint been movin’ too good of late.

Its got a beek up front like a darnin’ needle and wings so fast you cant hardly see the dang things. Its scarey, I tell you.

Then Holey Old Nelly, in no time the place is swarmin’ with the little suckers, swoopin’ and divin’ and chasin’ each another like Snoopy and the Red Barren.

Now I herd tell of hummer birds, of coarse. I even seen the odd one now and then in PEI and up in the Youcon. But I never seen the likes of this.

Red ones, green ones, wee little gray ones with black heads. They must of been here last year, since Eva knows ’em all by name.

Theres Ruby and Roofus and Anna and Allan. Even one called Callyopea, like the old steam organ at the fall fair.

But no matter what you call ’em, they got one thing in common. Ants in there britches.

D’you recolleckt what its like at a six year olds birthday party when the cake comes out? Thats what its like around here all day and haff the nite, thanks to those dang feeders.

I sware that hyper active attenshun span defassit thing came from watchin’ hummer birds once they hit the shugar water.

Anyways, I tell you all this by way of warnin’. Roofus may be headed yer way with some of his pals on root to Alasska.

He may be cute, but he’s armed and dangerus. And he dont take kindly to anythink that gets betwixt him and his soda pop.

So Darrol, since you dont have all that much up top to proteckt you, I think you’d best get yerself a hard hat too. Yer welcome.

The other thing goin’ on hereabouts of late is that Maisy is onto one of her periodickal health kicks again. Not fer herself, mind you, jest fer me.

Seems shes got it in her head that I dont get enuff ruffage in my diet. Now evry meal she pumps me fulla hole grain this, bran that, on and on.

In fact shes pretty near got me down to what I useta feed my cows, save fer the hay. I sware I take in more fiber in a day than yer avrage pulp mill.

Now she wants to get me onto the stewed prunes, but thats where I draw the line. Anyways, like all her foolish noshuns, I figger this too shall pass.

Yer pal,