From afar, they look like the beautiful insects that we have come to know butterflies to be. Do not trust your eyesight just yet. For these butterflies had their legs plucked from them, doomed to forever flutter about and never land. When they tire...they cannot rest. When they are sleepy... they cannot sleep. They guard the flowers on their land, with the willingness to defend it like a small army. Leave it to Ferald to not only eat their sunflowers, but take a nap on their grassy arable land--not knowing what lies ahead for him.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
One small step for Ferald, one giant fall for mammal kind. There's only one ferret whom I know, who has a knack for finding the most uncanny adventures. And in doing so, he has taken the term "go fly a kite" quite literally. At the edge of Woodzley, in the space in between ground and sky, an event is about to take place that will go awry. His friends out of sight will watch everything unfold before their eyes. Up high he will sail, pass the baffled pigeons he will fly, for the upbeat and unruly one is about to cry. With his pals on the ground, just standing around and thinking to themselves...is this the day that our fine ferret will finally perish. A gust of wind stops, a yellow fur bearer drops, into a body of water is where he stopped. So let us all rejoice and play, and put behind us this awful day...now that we can see that Ferald is okay.