The last two days, Nora has been trying to catch a bird. Yesterday she had us sitting on the front porch with binoculars, birdseed, a net, some salt and a tube for calling them. Grandpa Smith always told us that any bird who'd had salt sprinkled on his tail feathers couldn't fly. He spent hours laughing to himself watching all his grandkids trying to sneak up on the magpies (which he'd shoot for sneaking the dog food if we weren't around). I told Nora the same thing. She thought it was worth a try even if it was just a prank.
Today, she dressed as a bird, sprinkled birdseed everywhere (including the inside ledges of all the windows--no, I didn't see this happening, but once a thing is done, why fight about it?) and called to the birds. I heard her: "Birds, come here. I am your friend. I am nice and I will take care of you. Come here birds. I am a nice person."
I've been trying to teach her a few things about how plants and insects and things work here on the farm. After talking about the moth traps on the apple trees, she asked for a couple of milk jugs. When I came back into the kitchen, she had them stacked like this with an orange in between. She also needed a light source because after observing all the dead moths in the living room light fixture (Spring cleaning is happening soon, folks, I swear) she deduced that moths are attracted to light. So the moths are attracted to the light inside the bottom milk jug. They go through the door and eventually burrow into the orange to have their baby worms. Then the baby worms crawl up into the smaller milk jug on top, which Nora refers to as the Moth Hospital.
I live with one wild and beautiful creature.