Robins and Wall Street

I've just come off the nightly news, watching the top people of Goldman Sachs reveal themselves. A senator, a Republican gal from Maine, asked whether or not their job was to serve their customers' best interests. Replied Goldman brass: (something like this) "It is to give them good service."

This from scam artists, no better than phishers or other identity-theft creeps.

Anyway, I've allowed my ire to detract me from my idea, which is a robin, red of breast and sharp of beak. It flew into my yard this morning and started stalking my yard in true dinosaur fashion. Except it started stabbing at the ground, not in search of worms, but of dried lengths of brown grass. Before long, the robin looked as though it had whiskers - blades of dead grass sticking out of both sides of her beak as though she were a cat or something. And she kept bobbing down, grabbing more grass. It's beak was filling up. I couldn't believe the little bird could hold more dead grass.

And then, as though not even slightly burdened by her load, she flew off toward the nest she was building. Somewhere to the north, beak full. Out of sight.

The robin, read breast shining, was doing her thing. So, apparently, was Wall Street.