A flutter of movement drew me across the street. A dark bird flashed away. I was scanning the trees when a hole in an adjacent snag suddenly filled up. The phrase “gaping maw” leapt to mind. If he had had a spoon he would have been banging it against the table. It must be hard to fill even a tiny belly, one bitsy caterpillar at a time. I never saw the harried parent.
Stumble It!
Behind the Bins 