Yesterday evening, while sherlock grilled up the steaks and baked potatoes for dinner, I sat on the swing, enjoying the breeze from a front that moved through, with my bunny at my feet happily digging a hole. It was bliss. Young Petri occasionally nudged my ankles, asking me to massage his ears. Sherlock occasionally nudged my neck wanting who knows what, as he alternated between sitting beside me on the swing and checking on the grill. Yes, a wonderfully relaxing way to spend some time.

Until the two sandhill cranes came running at full speed, and then started to fly.

And two horrid little boys came running after them. The albino boy THREW A KNIFE at the birds. WTF?

You’ll never in a million years guess who started screaming at those boys. Go ahead, guess.

Horrid children. And not children I’m familiar with, else I would have gone to their parents house and given them an earful, too.

That kid is lucky he didn’t hurt someone. When he threw the knife, he was positioned in such a way that he could not see into our yard. If one of us had been walking toward the pond that that moment, the knife could have hit one of us. And then there’d be hell to pay, I assure you.

It’s a crime to harass the sandhill cranes, by the way. Horrible boys.

Now, I know some of you will say “boys will be boys,” but I played with boys more than girls growing up, and we never threw knives at animals. One time, in our teens, JP shot and killed a bird with a bb gun, and I was so upset with him. But that’s the only time I ever remember being cruel to animals.

wRitErsbLock