Early morning and the meadow is bustling with life. Foxes merrily skip across the waves of green dewy grass,playfully chasing their inquisitive cubs whilst birds serenade the world. A rabbit timidly peers out from his abode, to be greeted by a drop of dew, falling onto his brow. The shock of this insignificant event creates panic, causing the frightened, furry little bundle to flee across the glistening meadow in terror, diving into a neighbouring burrow for sanctuary.The unexpected, terrified guest causes mayhem with the permanantly nervous occupants, sending them scurrying deeper underground
. At the far corner of the land, a lonesome blackbird is bobbing around patches of hardened earth searching for a meal. She is hungry and tired, searching since day break with no luck. Suddenly, there's hope. She scampers over to the edge of the shimmering pond and buries her crown into the dismal looking earth. Once her head emmerges there is a sense of pride and accomplishment. She nervously looks around, desperate to protect her hard earnt prize from larger birds scavenging the area,realising she is alone, she launches herself up and away, blissfully gliding through the air like a knife through butter, returning, triumphant, to her makeshift house. As she perches on the edge of the nest, she knows she has a duty to perform, she inevitably has to share her precious rations with her helpless youngsters. They stare at the provider, with full, black eyes as deep as space itself,.mouths agape. The cries emitted could only be compared to those who are so desperate, and so helpless, that the mother has no choice but to share her bounty. Reluctantly, she unhinges her mouth and distributes portions to her helpless, hungry offspring, saving none for her own gnawing hunger.Their cries abate briefly, returning quickly when their hunger is not fed.The reality that she must provide for her young is obvious and she again leaves the comfort of the moss lined nest.She falls from the tree, only to swoop up at the very last second to save herself from the cold, clammy claws of Death. There is no enthusiasm in the flying now. . She knows she will be repeating this search for food over and over until her young are fledgelings and leave the nest, able to fend for themselves.
