We aren't actually in July yet, but it feels very balmy. Reminds me of our native land of Stindia. Ah Stindia, none of us have ever been there, so it isn't our native land exactly - just where we would feel most at home. Still its very warm lately and we hang around praising the Branch and Tree for it with our front arms spread wide. These truly are the MOST delicious leaves we've ever tasted, and so lush and full. The super ape has been going a bit ape though, it has to be said. She had the MOST ENORMOUS STICK you've ever seen and was holding it by it's tail and banging its head on the top of her tank and barking. I think she has a stereo on top of her enclosure like we did last week. She isn't very happy about it but seemed to cheer up when she sat and gazed into our little patch of jungle heaven. I think she'd like to hang upside down with us, except none of our branches would hold her. She is AWFUL HUGE. Imagine a branch big enough for her to hang out. WHaaaa. We could eat for a year.
Once again dear twigs we nearly starved to death. Stick 14 nearly bent double so empty was she, but thankfully no one has lost any legs and we still at last FULL count number 73 beautiful sticks in total. We have learned to count by they way, by lining ourselves up and moving one at a time into bunches of FOUR and then one of us lies across all the others and we call that a foot. Four feet make 20 etc. Its much easier counting in feet. ANYWAY I digress.
We nearly starved again, it was awful. 14 looked like an upsidedown "V' and we thought her tail was paralysed but she was just making a display of herself as usual. All that was left were stalks stalks legs sticks and stalks. And it was quite crowded since nearly all of us have shed our third skin which means we are truly beautiful and long and green young adult ladies… EXCEPT... FOR ONE.
Anyway as per the routine the Super Ape collected us all up very quickly this time, deftly I might say, and moved MOST people into a very similar glass house to the one we were in, with new, delicious, tasty, fresh food and shelter. We all knew what was what and just got on with repositioning ourselves until that evening's assembly on the rope weave ceiling. Until we heard Bertha wailing. Yes, at first very quiet, not even a sway, and then simpering, and then, wailing. She'd been separated from stick 57 her favourite hanger outer and well, we soon realised that quite a few of us were MISSING.
The super ape has separated us! Some of us are in a different tank now, and I hear they have far more room and but far less to eat so it's swings and roundabouts really.
SO about this unusual person. Well, lets call them stick 73. Stick 73 is, wait for it... BROWN. With speckles, positively bark like! We think she might be A MALE>
No one dare hang off of stick 73, we are all watching closely to see what happens next.
Oh and half of us nearly died of a heart attack. Never has there been such a noise and vibrations, we were shaking and wobbling as much as we possibly could but nothing we could do could help us blend with this force 10 earthquake. Super Ape has put us ON A SPEAKER. She calls it that but its BARKY LOUD. Then there were flashes. We expected rain, but nothing, just Super Ape saying "that one's weird, it's brown, is it a boy do you think?" NO idea who she was talking to, possibly me; I looked right into its chasm like eye and for a moment I thought we understood each other. Dear Branch, life is weird, but good, especially since we got some more room. Though a shame for poor Bertha. If stick 73 is MALE we are going to call him HORACE. Bertha got her name by accident, but HORACE if he's male is statistically unlikely at best and so almost a twigging miracle.
The >i< in stick has become iii we are many -stiiicks- now. The last >i< passed the top level stick accomplishment as best stick for 3 consecutive days after which she died. And we ©ame out of our eggs and are still growing, filling our world/˙|\ sometimes the branches are bare and great weather changes come, one by one we are ::shaked:: or some are fortunate to be lifted into a spaceship where we are all together at once, then the weather improves as we move back into our world all fresh and new once more. Its crowded though- we crowd on some leaves in piles of sticks which i hear is quite safe as more sticks means ∆confusing∆. Last time the world was so improved, though that nice scent had gone that spicy sharp IV lovely smell but the leaves were so much softer and so deliciously sweet. We are all so full and contented that every night we meet on the ceiling to catch some air or hang out till we shed our skins, if its that kind of night. We are more than the number of legs I have which is what the last mother said her number were. I think we might be more than the number of all our legs, no hang on that can't be right. †ø^¬˚^∆˙
Half a rabbit and a Blackbird egg. I was very honoured last night when Merlin dragged in a baby rabbit. It was so incredibly beautiful and still warm! I couldn't help finding it beautiful and he let me admire it for some minutes before dragging it off and eating it head first. It was a bit like being near the lion enclosure at the safari park. There was crunching and smacking of chops while he went about devouring the thing fur bones and all. He left the lower intestines and back legs because he's a cat of distinction. NO ONE EATS THOSE BITS. Or perhaps he left them for me. I am not sure. He was throwing the poor bunny around like a beach ball for some time last night before eating it, and this morning, as if to get the most out of it, had a few seconds of play with the remains. I am totally soft so after I drew it, I buried what was left of mopsy, flopsy or perhaps it was cotton tail. The Blackbird egg is hopefully evidence of a youngster that will fare better in the world. The drama of Spring! Though I am soft, I couldn't help being impressed by Merlin's prowess. Also if it were some sort of survival situation, I can't help thinking he wouldn't let me starve. Which is nice.
thanks you for your intervention by slamming the door as you leave