β
It took me some time to realize this was my familyβ this stoic, forthright little regiment of women, all exceptionally well read, well spoken, each one a skilled athlete βall staunch and devout members of the Audubon Society. Most weekends became, from dawn to dusk, one long bird-watching expedition as, armed to the teeth with picnic bas-kets, cameras and field glasses, they made their reverent way into the deep woods, treading as softly as Indians with me in tow. Not too much fun for yours truly. In spite of what the poets say, youth is not always the happiest of seasons. None of my aunts ever bothered to conceal their displeasure at my ignorance on the subject of ornithology and remained for the most part coolly disapproving. Until one day when I petulantly ran from an unfinished lunch to seek relief in the great outdoors βthere, on top of a spruce which was bent over from the weight of it, sat an enormous bird with strange claws the likes of which I'd never seen. Forgetting all unsettled scores, I ran back inside and announced my discovery.
β
β