THE SKY appeared to be awash with countless noisy black birds that flew over our neighborhood for a day or two after the interloper’s reign ended. I couldn’t tell if Elvira was one of them for they all looked alike, but I suspected she was the one in front, being chased.

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THE PEACE AND QUIET of the countryside was reinstated during the time of my writing ‘The Library’ for ‘Mind WorX.’ The kerfuffle’s with the interloper and the poltergeist are now long gone and forgotten – as far as the birds are concerned anyway.

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THERE they all were, perched on the railing outside my unit, mouths agape in expectation of a free meal. (my unit’s to the right with the screen door open) There was Squeaky and his crew, Mum and Dad, plus Bruce and Brucette who were hoovering the concrete for any near misses, as my throwing tends to be a bit off at times.

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DURING my association with the birds, I have come to a very ego shattering and difficult realization. As I have always tried to write this story truthfully and factually, for the birds sake, for they cannot tell their story themselves, it’s time to ‘fess up.

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TIME to leave the birds again, for a little while at least so they can get on with their lives, but before I do, I would like to clear up a few points following the last chapter where I told the story about Chubby being so patient as she waited her turn to be fed, while Squeaky ‘squeaked’ impatiently, which was a bit unfair on Squeaky.

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