The Researcher

"Brewer's Blackbird--now there's a bird!"

"Meaning?"

"Well, look at it, standing tall, looking ahead, into the future, alert, stalwart."

"So?" 

He was excited, ready to drone on about a bird he'd never seen or heard of, the Bird a Day on the damn (sorry) Audubon calendar she'd given him for Christmas. She wouldn't make that mistake again. Yesterday, the American flamingo? She'd never heard of American flamingos, thought flamingos were more exotic, more foreign, but there they were in all their pink, bird-a-day glory--and as the weekend birds, so, of course, he talked of nothing else for two mornings in a row.

At least the Brewer's Blackbird was alone on the page, singular, and, from the look of it, (yes, she was forced to look at it), shy and embarrassed by all all the attention and, no doubt,  portrayed larger than life in the picture.

Well, she knew from experience that he'd soon wind down if she limited her response to an occasional nod, even as he continued to drone on about the odd name, Brewers, now wondering if the Brewers Blackbird was connected to brewing, to brews, was a bird that liked beer, that preferred beer over water!? 

"Now there's a bird!" he said, for the second time., and, predictably, wondered if it preferred an IPA over a stout...or, he said, "Probably a plain lager is good enough, do they even have tongues, a sense of taste..." and he was off, launched on his daily, deep dive into Google.

Brewer's Blackbird