the royal visit

So Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall were visiting Nova Scotia on the weekend.  I didn't get to meet 'em though.  Apparently, my invitation was lost in the mail.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  I watched Charles and Camilla for a bit on television and saw that they, just as I, enjoy an occasional walkabout.  It's true.  They did a walkabout around parts of Halifax and whatnot just like I do walkabouts in my very own garden.  You know what they say.  They say, great minds think alike and obviously, great minds enjoy the occasional walkabout, too.

After watchin' the Royals doin' their walkabout, I figured I should do one of my own.  I asked Peep #1 if she'd like to join me but she was busy doin' somethin' silly so I went outside by myself.  I headed out the window and proceeded to do a leisurely inspection of the garden.

At some point durin' said walkabout, I decided to jump up onto the car.  There's a nice vantage point from the top of that car and, more importantly, its powdery blue colour sets off the sparkle in my sterling silver - some say platinum - coat, quite nicely.  Let's just say, I look really good sittin' on that car.

But once up there, I found evidence of a crime I most certainly did not want to find.  A scratch?  No, worse.  A dent?  Nope, even worse than that.  What pray tell did I find, you ask?  I found...  BIRD DROPPINGS.  That's right.  I found a couple of big ol' white splotches that were clearly left behind by one or more birds.  MOUSES!

I looked this way and that way.  Then I looked that way and this way.  Finally, I looked way, way up.  There was nothin' to see in any of those directions.  Nothin' to see at all.

Then I heard, off in the distance, the roar of one of those noisy metal birds.  You know, a plane.  There's an air force base not too far from here and sometimes, my garden appears to be in the flight path of the planes landin' and takin' off there.  I thought about it for a bit but figured a metal bird probably wouldn't leave droppings such as those I had discovered on the car.  Unless, of course, someone had gone in to use the loo on that plane and...   Nah...  I don't think that kind of thing can happen.  I hope that kind of thing can't happen.  MOUSES!

No, I studied the situation and realised that the bird or birds who had dropped those droppings must be of a non-metallic nature.  In other words, the type of birds who hang out in my garden.

I immediately ruled out the chickadees, goldfinches and hummingbirds.  Those are all wee little birds and, quite frankly, these were BIG droppings.  Hmmm....  MOUSES!

I sat there on that car, contemplating all there was to contemplate.  Birds...  droppings...  flight path. I stared ahead at the big ol' oak tree in the back yard.  Then I glanced over my shoulder and stared at the big ol' oak tree at the end of my driveway in the front yard.  Suddenly, I had my answer. MOUSES!

I immediately raced inside the house to tell the peep what I had discovered.  I knew she would want to hear about my findings.  I had made the discovery of the century!  Okay... FINE.  The discovery of late last Sunday afternoon but a discovery, nonetheless.

I had discovered that our car was sittin' right in middle of a flight path.  It was right in the middle of the flight path of the local troupe of actors who regularly perform in The Crow Show right there in my garden.  Their stage is the big ol' oak tree in my back yard.  They perform matinees there, daily. Sometimes even a double-feature.  But one of their mornin' rehearsal areas is the big ol' oak tree at the end of the driveway in the front yard.  If one were to draw an imaginary line between those two big oak trees, one would reveal the acting troupe's flight path and one would find that, lo and behold, that flight path flies immediately above where the car sits.

What to do...   What to do...  I asked the peep if we could move the stage area for The Crow Show but she said no.   I asked her about movin' the crows' rehearsal area and again was told no.  Then I asked her 'bout movin' the driveway itself.  Once more, I heard the word no.

"But I could always move the car," the peep said.

"Nah," I answered.  "I have a better idea.  How 'bout someone just gets out there and gives the car a good ol' wash.  Perhaps one of my minions," I suggested, "and by minion, I mean you."  I looked pointedly at the peep to make sure she understood.

Turnin' away from Peep #1, I headed back outside to complete my walkabout and ponder the important things in life.  The important things in life such as...  Why the mouses did I not get an invite to meet with Charles and Camilla when they were visitin' Nova Scotia?  Why? WHY?

Clearly, my invitation really had been lost somewhere in the mail.  There is simply no other reasonable explanation.  No other reasonable explanation at all.  MOUSES!