Sometimes poor choices are made. One decides on a career and, well, it just doesn't turn out to be the path we should have taken. Case in point, Cabra. "Now what, exactly do you mean by this, Marigold?", you ask. Well, herein lies a tale.
You may recall the Cabrarator's penchant for deceased ornithological specimens. Naturally we might conclude that she should pursue the path of the caninaturalist, like her friend Ari. Lately, however, her pursuits have taken her off the beaten path, shall we say. She has begun to chase the ducks with wild abandon, never heeding even the slightest effort to guide her in the proper direction. A House Finch hatched three babies in the ivy next to the house, only to have one of them snatched up when it came time to leave the familial domicile. Luckily, the goatmother was able to extract the little guy unhurt. These are but a few of Cabra's recent exploits (one of which, I might add, had branched out to include dead mice).
Today, though, the effluvium hit the air-velocity device, as it were, and a career path, wrongly chosen, was abruptly brought to an end. You see, we have a fair number of White-Crowned Sparrows about. They are quite nice little birds and have a beautiful song. They often serenade us when we are out enjoying the green grass. But, today, Cabra bounced into the bushes under a large cedar and came out with a baby sparrow. The goatmother was on her like a guinea hen on a tick. Cabra dropped that baby and went for a second one. The ever-agile goatmother scooped up both babies. The goatfather was duly enlisted to try making a hay-nest higher in a tree, but the little sparrows would have none of it. Finally the goatmother stepped into the underbrush and found the original nest. Still, the little sparrows would not stay in. No siree! And who could blame them? Would you want to wait around for 'Jaws' to come after you again?
During all this commotion, both parent birds were hopping about and acting injured in an effort to lead someone - anyone- away from their babies. Finally the goatmother got the two little ones to at least stay in the brush and stretched an old piece of field fencing completely around the base of the tree - brush and all. Then, Cabra was duly chastised and counseled to seek a new direction in life.
There is a quote which says, "An archaeologist is someone whose career lies in ruins". Since her first love has mislead her so entirely and most definitely ended in ruin, and since Cabra's second love lies wholly and completely in 'excavation', one might be led to conclude that archaeology is not such a bad choice. CaniArCurology anyone?