Still newfangled.

Well, that and still learning what I can do with the telephoto and get away with through the kitchen window.
It seems the bigger the bird, the more intelligent.
The more intelligent the bird, the more nervous.

Every time I see one out there a line flits across the periphery of my consciousness.
Johnny Crow would dig and sow, till he made a little garden.

I have vague memories of Mam reading it to us way back when, what I didn't know until now was that the poor fellow had been dead 2yrs before I was even born.