A High Use for Fritos

So engrossed was I in learning about osprey molt that I lost track of my kids. Bill Webb tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out the dike road. 

"Look at Baby Zick."

Well, will you lookit that. Liam had taken it upon himself to raid our precious Frito stash for a bunch of panhandling boat-tailed grackles. I broke into a huge grin. 

What's not to love about boat-tailed grackles? Big and shiny beautiful they are, with melodious, metallic clanking calls that instantly evoke south Texas for me. They're bold innovators, smart as little crows.

Finding the Fritos a bit dry, they were taking them down to the water to soak them awhile before trying to break them up and swallow them.

This was not lost on Liam, who found their Frito processing quite charming. They reciprocated by performing some terrific dominance displays to each other.

I have the Frito and you don't. I am the Frito Bandito.

I take your Frito and raise you a Cheeto, you knave.

Liam kept the corn chips coming. He hoped they would eventually take them from his hand, if he was patient enough.

Hello, young lady. Liam was kind enough to give me a Frito. I noticed a familial resemblance between you two, so I'm just stopping by to see if you have anything edible up there on the bench.

Baby Zick indeed. He's showing excellent wild bird etiquette here, keeping his scary flapping extremities tucked, staying still and small, and facing away from the birds. None of this I've had to teach him; he just gets it. So does his sister. 

Given time, I'm sure they'd feed from his sweet hand.

Webb just emailed me, asking if I find ever spider webs that say "SOME KIDS!" 

 Alla time.