,
The early bird gets the worm. But why settle for those unappetizing grubs when
you can instead feast like a hawk on Michelin five-star cuisine? It just takes a bit of talent, a whole lot of
dexterity and eagle-eyed courage to swoop and scoop your way to a smorgasbord
of gastronomic delights. The world is
your oyster if you’re up for the challenge.
Just stake out your game and name your delectable prize.
Putniņš (little
bird) was on a mission: To score some
dinner and take-away whatever is left over.
After all, she’s got a family to feed, a nest full of hatchlings
squalling for their next meal. First
plan of action is to scope out the real deal and zero in on the steal. It’s in her best interest to reside within
close proximity to the next meal so that she can quickly zip in and out and be
back in seconds for the third and fourth course.
As birds of a feather know, it’s all about location,
location, location.
City birds fare quite well, sitting pretty with a plethora
of dining options on offer. Pizza, sushi
and international cuisine cater to a melange of tastes, so if one’s tummy is
grumbling and if not that picky, a Big Mac is quite the yummy late night snack.
Then there are the privileged ones, born with a silver spoon
in their beaks, where life is breezy and the snatching is easy. Whether one fancies indulging in hors
d’oeuvres and crudités at black-tie events or feasting on fish and chips whilst
catching rays on a yacht at sea, the horn of plenty is far from empty.
The country birds that make their home away from the hustle
and bustle of the frantic pace of 9 to 5 have no choice but to resort to
slightly more ingenious methods to grab dinner from your table. A plate of crumbs will not suffice and
pecking on grains of rice is just not nice.
Hence, the highly recommended swoop and scoop preferred
method of snack.
It’s as quick as one, two, three. Target.
Spotted. Going in for the Snatch.
A skilfully engineered swoop of a scoop of my late afternoon
brunch…
And there you have it.
Putniņš (little bird) dining
on the catch…
Side note:
When I was a young lass, perhaps 4 or 5 years of age, I declared that my
new name was now Putniņš (little bird) and I would no longer answer to the name
of Nora. My parents had no choice but to
comply and for the next year or two, I chirped and danced and pretended that I
was Putniņš (little bird) and all was magical in my Mary Poppins world.
So, when I travelled to Pūre on the
outskirts of Tukums (the birthplace of my mum) in Latvia, last summer, I found
it strangely comforting to be trailed by one persistent bird that was on a
mission to make her presence known. I
had journeyed to Latvia numerous times before, but this was my first visit to
my mum’s place of birth in Pūre. My
emotions were all over the map as I sought to re-trace my mum’s footsteps and
perhaps catch a glimpse of her soul as I meandered along the gravel path in
front of her childhood abode.
And with a melodic chirp of a serenade, Putniņš
(little bird) welcomed me home.
Next post:
In two/three weeks, the weekend of June 1st, or perhaps a tad
earlier. Stay tuned!
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| Singing for my lunch and a welcome serenade |
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| Putniņš going in for the grab! |
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| Score! |
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| A tasty first course. Now where's the main course? |
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| Storks! Storks! Storks were everywhere in Pūre |
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