A Shaggy Bird Story

     "The European Shags are back," she says. "Eight of them! Our birds of the day!"

    He says nothing, doesn't look up, even manages not to smile, twitch, or shake his head. He could comment, say, "What the hell is a shag? Are there Asian Shags, American Shags, etc...?" but he knows better than to feign any level of interest.

    His failure to respond doesn't stop her.  

    "Hmmm," she is saying, speaking almost inaudibly, but he can still hear her, which she knows he knows that she knows. "Hmmm, shag. Wonder how they got that name.  Shaggy feathers? Shaggy feet?  Shaggy . .. Hmmm," she says again, which makes him smile in spite of himself, because he knows (has been told) that "hmmm" is her favorite word, full of possibilities!

    Then he hears her get up, knows she is going for the dictionary, the real dictionary, their antique unabridged Websters and waits for the predictable re-entry and triumphant announcement. . . . which she provides almost immediately.

    "Shag 1," she announces: "'A tangle or mass."

    Dramatic pause.

    "Shag 2:  'a dance step of the 1930s consisting of a hop on each foot in alternating beats,' and," 

    Extended dramatic pause;

    "Shag definition 3:  'A bird, the cormorant [perhaps from its shaggy crest.]'"

    "Aha!' she shouts.

    "A cormorant!" she says. 

    "Who knew?" she shouts. "Who knew that a shag was a cormorant? Did you know?"

    He almost lies, says, well, yes, of course, everybody knows that, but he knows better,  doesn't say anything, just shakes his head, glad (genuinely glad . . . and relieved) to know that the discovery of the shag aka cormorant will keep her happy for the rest of the day . . . or week. . . and it does.