Mr. Bird is sleeping around

I know: I imply that Mr. Bird is being promiscuous, wherein we all regret that he hasn't had a lady friend in at least 15 years. (And, in the spring, when his feathers are long and magnificent and he starts each day with an impressive shriek or two, we suspect he'd be quite the stud if given the chance.)

No, what I mean to say is Mr. Bird isn't sleeping in our backyard perch every night. In fact, we don't know where he is sleeping some nights.

As it gets dark, we always glance out to see his nightly ritual of approaching the swing structure that is his perch on our dock. Generally, he pauses for awhile, as though summoning his courage. Or maybe he's enjoying his last few moments on solid ground. But, generally, he is there punctually and eventually with a hop and flap, assumes his night-time perch.

But one night last week and two nights this week, he never showed up.

We looked for him, but did not spot him.

This week, Sophia, the German woman whose obsession with Mr. Bird surpasses even ours, insisted he is sick because he did not eat any of the food she serves him nightly. She says he loves her food, and this can only mean something awful.

Well, last night, he was back in his perch and I don't see any change in his appearance. So, I do hope Sophia is wrong.

We know he must be getting to be an old bird, and we worry about him.