Christmas Bird Counts

Tomorrow we are doing another one so I, Ray will once again have to be fairly late on my Thought, tomorrow. Plus I may be weary or out of sorts by then. But maybe not.

Christmas bird counts are surpassingly strange, to me. People act strange at em. Like one time many moons ago, Crumby got drunk at one, and gettin up in the middle of the night, crawled out of the tent and walked off lookin' around for somewhere to lala, but while he was thus walkin around he met a Yucca which intersected him with a spine right in the top of his head. How he hollered and cussed when that happened, to em. It took years for that thorn to work its way out of his noggin and now he has that very thorn in a jar of alcohol in his office. It's the jar that also has a midge er two, in it. But that's actually not an especially strange Christmas Bird Count story at all. Tomorrow, late, I'll spell strange. We're talkin' grown men wearin' three overcoats, each.