Nope, ma.. this is my spot.. my wing.. mine..
I came home one day to a floor full of feathers in the workroom. This wee kittah is the wildest of the wild. She often reminds me of a lynx. Once, when working with bear, she was referred to as such by said.. or maybe that was thought..
When she was little, she had this teeny tiny turtle tail. Now it has grown to resemble more of a lemur tail. She also has these cute little black bear paws – dark as midnight on the bottom and quite the sharp. She also has a taste for bird wings.. hence the carnage of the day. She growled ferociously at me when I tried to remove the crow wing from her jaws of death… she got to keep it.
It seemed that it was time to put everything into jars. I resigned myself to another necessary altar adjustment. I collected up some of the feathers lying about. I put them in a small jar with grandmother crow’s skull. I housed the rabbit skeleton in a larger jar with some river rock from the garden. I moved a bit of other things around and pieced back together a workable arrangement. I thought of hanging owl up high a bit.. how far can she jump, I pondered. I may have to think on that one a bit. Then I lit the sage.
I kept the lynx’s favorite spot open. I’m pretty sure that she would clear it if I decided to get smart about putting anything in her way. She is the dominant one here.. again, wild as the wind but worth all the trouble.