Henry the Hungry

Henry, longing for avian sustenance.

Greetings.

I have a request, a rather embarrassing predilection.

It has been over a year since I have snacked upon a colorful hatchling. You might give me credit for restraint, but that would be unwarranted. This year, not a single bird parent deigned to build a nest or hatch eggs at the Patch. I wonder if word is getting around.

I don’t need regular feedings of brightly colored birds. But a long expanse of time without such sustenance does become untenable. I reached my current condition of desperation over two months ago and am now suffering the agony of deprivation.

I know that many cats find contentment in a diet composed entirely of kibble. I am no such cat. With epicurean tastes and a fondness for the finer things in life, my sensibilities demand gustatory variety.

Young keets, objects of Henry's desire.

I am not asking that you import a yellow bird. I am certainly not demanding that you present a recently dispatched fledging. I simply beg your permission to stalk, kill, and eat but one of the newly hatched keets as a means of assuaging my debilitating hunger.

We might consider this a compromise. The keets are rather dull in appearance, apart from their vibrant orange legs. You would hardly notice one less Guinea fowl, while the crunch and fluff of that one small body (with accompanying flashy legs, of course) might sustain me through the long winter months.

In yearning and travail,

Henry