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 Posted: Sat Aug 02, 2008 2:02 pm
Typhoon fluffed his feathers, letting them settle. He was rather content just sitting here talking to Granny. It was difficult to have a good conversation with fledglings, as they were mostly just concerned with eating and learning how to fly. Conversation was possible with them now and again, but they couldn't understand some things that Granny did.
"Afraid I don't have one tucked under my primaries, dear. Are you still hungry, since there's not much cleanup left to do?" The Ghost Minder could only assume that she hadn't gotten much hunting done, trying to let her blood feather grow out correctly.
Dune licked his paw, rubbing it over his face and curling up a comfortable ball at Ty's feet.
"Were your fledglings all right through the storm?," Ty asked. "I didn't hear of any major injuries at the Enclave, but sometimes news doesn't travel the way it was intended to."
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2008 2:15 pm
"Hungry?" Granny asked, "Oh, no. I've had deliveries from the Matron. And no, I didn't give it all to my students."
Ty was correct to assume that Granny hadn't really hunted since the storm, but she had started to get deliveries for herself and the students that had stayed in her territory. One good meal a day was enough for any Sentinel, and it didn't really hurt them to go without for a few days, but Granny had got enough deliveries from the Matrons helpers to eat nearly every day since the storm. She wondered if that meddling medic had tipped them off, because there had been healing herbs included in the first few deliveries.
"I've heard of one death so far, but I'm sure there will be others revealed later," Granny said, "I don't know if you've had Catkin under your wings, but they say she was crushed by a falling branch."
Granny paused to polish off the rest of the squirrel.
"I had two fledglings with me during the storm," she said, "You might have minded them. Crawly is a... vocal... little Ghost and Bumble is a handsome Wildtype boy. Crawly lost a good few of his primaries, but the medic said he'll be able to fly normally. Then there was that sick child, Hawthorns charge, I think she hit her head. But the rest of the fledglings seeking shelter here was more or less unharmed."
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Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2008 10:28 pm
Typhoon chuckled. He was guilty of the same now and again...giving whatever food was available to fledglings and going without food for a good long while.
"Oh dear, a fledgling died? Noctua, that's the worst. I've seen Bumble abouts the main Deep Woods Enclave, can't say that I've ever minded Crawly. I'm sure I'll see him sometime." Ty shook his head sadly. It was such a tragic thing, to have a life snuffed out so quickly.
"I'm sure you have things to get to, and I have a fledgling back at the Enclave who's probably getting antsy to get flying lessons or something similar. Would you mind if I visited you again?" The Ghost Sentinel asked, trying not to seem bashful, when in fact he felt a little odd asking. Why would he even need to ask?
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Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2008 2:29 am
"It's sad when a young one dies," Granny said, "But it's a fact of life. The Thunderbird gives and takes, but no matter how harsh he seems he will always give more than he takes."
She bowed her head and sat silent for a moment, but Ty's talk about antsy fledglings brought a smile to her beak.
"Oh, Ty," she said, "Of course not. You're always welcome here and you should know that."
She reached out and gave Ty's wing a reassuring preen. She would have preened his eartuft, but he wasn't a fledgling and Granny was not a big female.
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Posted: Sat Sep 13, 2008 8:13 pm
Typhoon nodded slightly, knowing that he should get back to Snowpeak. The pale fledgling could get into so much trouble without Ty around to keep an eye on him.
"Thank you, dear. I shall be back." The Ghost Minder was quite happy at her preening. It had been a good long while since anyone else had preened him.
He took a hop out further onto the branch and took off with a smile floating around his beak. Granny was always so good at lifting his spirits.
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Posted: Mon Sep 15, 2008 1:14 pm
"Good night and good hunting!" Granny hooted after her friend. She watched him disappear between the trees with a smile on her beak, and then started to preen to make sure she didn't have any squirrel left on her. There were no excuses for a shabby exterior.
She studied her territory with new eyes, still getting used to the missing branches here and there. Perhaps she should fly around for a bit, just to stretch her wings and enjoy the night. A full belly, a beautiful night and a gentleman visit. What more could an old girl want?
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