Turning your back on your guests! And at the dinner table!
It may be the New Year according to at least one human calendar, The Wild doesn’t notice. Critters still must eat, Republicans and Democrats still must be hostile to each other.
One wonders how we Two-Leggers are from our non-human forebears. I mean, have you ever seen the childish behavior that gets in the way of getting things done along lawmakers and business leaders?
You have to wonder, are these really the people making the laws? Are these the people really keeping business running?
Case in point, dining.
Historically, meal time is where the most powergames occur. Not just in diplomatic and business circles, even among families.
Want to know a family’s true dynamic? Sit them around a table, see who gets to eat first, who gets to take the biggest helpings, who helps who with their food.
Want to know a nation’s dynamic? Go to a state dinner. Want to know a company’s dynamic? Go to a staff lunch or dinner.
I find such things fascinating. People spend more time figuring out the social signals than exchanging actionable information or eating.
Not so in The Wild.
You don’t want to talk to someone? Turn your back to them. Much easier and easily understood.
Ham with a side of Cranberry? Really?
I haven’t shared notes about our resident turkeys since The Chuckster and then to mention we hadn’t seen them in a bit. Prior to that, I wrote about Two Toms a’ Struttin’ and noted that, with that much testosterone hanging, turklets (we’ve been instructed they’re not “hatchlings” or some such. The proper translation from Toiga, the primary Turkey language, is “turklet”) were sure to be around.
We’d been hearing turkeys calling each other for a while. Hadn’t seen anyone, though. No turkey signs, either. You know, those signs they carry. Ban Thanksgiving!, Humans are Turkeys, Too!, Support the Turkey Lobby!, and Try Ham with a Side of Cranberry! So Good and So Good for You!.
Anyway, one day as I was working on Gable Smiled and had a sense I was being Turkied. Sure enough, lifting my eyes from my monitor, what do I behold?
There were more than seven, of course. I counted fourteen at one point (they came three times. Wanted to be sure I understood this was to be a turkey-less Thanksgiving this season).
And there were turklets. More like turkteens but still turklets.
The kits are out and about
A few weeks back I wrote Vasch and Euste Join Us for Some Casual Dining. I have mentioned the possibility of fox kits in Vasch the Fox. We knew kits were out there (we’d heard them crying more than one night) and waited patiently until they made their presence known.
Sure enough, a few nights back that’s just what they did.
Welcome Chester and Sylvie, Vasch and Euste’s kits from earlier this year (we think).
We, of course, are thrilled that Chester and Sylvie have human-pronounceable names.
But they are fox.
They could be foolin’ us.
And no TXTing at the table, either.
I mentioned In Beryl the Community Organizer that Hecate’s kits have grown.
I wouldn’t want you to think I was fooling you.
No, Hecate’s kits have grown. Sometimes she lets them dine with her, more often it’s not a happy family. The Wild doesn’t sanction children living at home beyond their years, something they often remind me when we see Two-Legs coming to-and-fro in the neighborhood.
I explain about college loans and dwindling economy. They laugh. They ask if I’ve ever heard of “loss of habitat” or “environmental collapse”.
Touche’, Old Ones.
In any case, Hecate’s kits:
Do you noticed that not a one of them has their cellphone at the table?
I mentioned Vasch and Euste in an earlier post about one of their kits, Pascha. Specifically, I asked Pascha to tell his folks that the tavern is still open.
Good kit that he is, he hurried home to let his folks know.
A few nights later Vasch and Euste graced our table. Casual dining, of course, nothing fancy and always lots of fun.
You’ll note that Vasch goes to check the salad bar. Loves his greens, that one.