Nary a shot
I gave in to pressure. Early this morning, the local grocery offered up some fowl, with nary a shot fired.
No hunting here, unless you count trying to find the car keys. When we need extra food, the local supermarket always “comes through”. Choose (based on impulse), pay (with a plastic card that seems to know how much money is available), carry out. Maybe this is hunting in the modern context.
No plans to change my ways, either. Picking bits of lead out of a feathered corpse holds no appeal, and my aim is unlikely to be true. The alternative (vegan) leaves my head filled with the screams of dying vegetables. Malnutrition will surely occur, if my protein quota drops. I’m a store bought epicurean, with mundane tastes. Keep it simple, make me happy. So many plates, as yet untried.
But enough about food.
Time to focus on other things. Music. Literature. Literature about music. I continue discovering new talent, thanks to modern media. Rarely a day goes by without some catchy tune coming along, followed by a “need to know” about the associated artist. How did they do that? What was the seed inspiration? Are there other, unheard melodies? Shall I play it again, or move along to another moment?
Do dogs like music? Our hairy houseguest listens to the same melody stream that enlighten my life, with nary a sign. No mournful howls. No drumming of the hind paw in time? If not, why not!
Another lovely day, although the lawn remains uncut. As the song says, “Tomorrow!”
