AVIAN UPDATE

Huckleberry Duck and his huddle-bud Tom Chickee are living vividly here at St. Holiday's Avian Sanctuary (SHAS). Thanks to a carefully prescribed diet and a life of ease, they have each doubled in size, as the pictures attest. Huckleberry, we have learned, is a Crested Duck, a very fine specimen of that preferred variety. His inseparable friend, Tom, has been classified by our highly-educated poultry experts as "some kind of chicken, either male or female." In the process of rapid growth, Tom is losing his/her pink Easter dye. We hesitate to call him yellow, inasmuch as none of the birds at SHAS has ever shown any other disposition than raw courage. So, to the staff here at the sanctuary, Tom is merely bright. St. Holiday has spent so much time working with Huckleberry, he has developed a severe case of Duck Butt in his hair. This tragic condition may be attractive to female ducks, but the Lovely One thinks he now looks like a "clueless dweeb," whatever that may mean. Of course, the saint was always revered for his ideals and not for his remarkable lack of physical charisma. The enlightened recognize that the spirit of the chicken flock speaks through him and motivates the masses. Huckleberry and Tom love to spend time outside their pen, when staff is available to watch over them. In the evening, just after sunset, they follow the hens into the Chicken Catchatorium to bed down for the night in the straw. Updates will be posted every so often.

In completely unrelated news, informed sources, speaking strictly off the record, revealed that the imminently-eminent poet, philosopher and holy man, St. Holiday, has received numerous death threats from a certain Middle Eastern terrorist organization. Apparently, the recent PBS program, "Tour de la Monasterio de Santo Holiday," showed that the saint's toilet, known as "the Throne," faces toward Mecca, a gross insult to Muslims everywhere. As a precaution, St. Holiday will be spending the evenings in his secret bunker, located in his backyard, over by the corn patch, seventeen feet west of the patio, under the sign saying, "Private Shelter, Knock Before Entering."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JENNA LYNN!

When I grow up, if that is ever possible, I want to be the male version of my amazing daughter, Jenna Lynn. She has the gift of static cling for everything in the good category. She flies through life like a spiritual Electrolux, drawing faith, knowledge, charity, optimism, kindliness, and personal power from the carpets of mortality with exceptional grace, despite unrelenting opposition. It is humbling and inspiring to be a witness of her victories. I think only a few of her closest friends know how much adversity she suffers. She conquers through her faith. The six children in her care, fortunate children!, will learn the true meaning of love from her. One day, they will read her journals and understand how the Lord refined and purified her in a real cauldron of trials. She refuses by sheer spiritual will and perseverance to allow a bushel to fall over her light.

On November 22, 1976, I recorded a sacred incident in my journal, involving my Jenna Lynn. Concerning the previous Sabbath, I wrote: "Now, Jenna had not been in the best of spirits in the morning. In fact, she seemed over the past couple of months to be very insecure. She would cry over the least of things and argue and complain continually. Candy and I both have spoken quite harshly to her lately, which has not contributed to peace in the home. Anyway, yesterday at Sacrament Meeting, Jenna began carrying on again and being upset. I decided to take her home before the meeting ended. So, I and she marched home, and I put her to bed. Candy came home a short time later, and we began to talk about Jenna, and why it was that she was acting this way. We searched hard. Candy began to cry, and she said that she felt that she was ruining Jenna, and perhaps another family should have her instead of us. We felt unsure as to exactly what we needed to do for her and uncertain as to why Jenna was so insecure. Then I went upstairs to pray... When Jenna awoke from her sleep, I told her that I wanted to have an interview with her, which confused her, since we had never had such a thing. She consented and brought her little brown chair into my room to sit in as we talked. I sat on the floor, so that my eyes were level with hers, and I apologized for being so nasty to her that day, and I promised that I would try harder to be a good father. Then I told her how much I love her and how much she means to me. I related to her about her birth, how I had driven her mother to the hospital, shaking all over with expectation when the time came. I told her how beautifully white and radiant her mother appeared after Jenna had been sent down from Heavenly Father. And I told her how I had covenanted with the Lord, upon receiving the good news of her birth from the nurse, that I would strive to be a good father to her. Then I asked Jenna if she would like me to give her a blessing. She said, "Well, I guess you could give me a blessing, if you wanted to." And so I did. I laid my hands upon her head and touched my forehead to hers, as I knelt next to her little chair. A warm, peaceful spirit descended, and I pronounced words of blessing. A surge of spiritual feeling poured through me to a degree that I had not experienced before. Jenna began to be a little frightened, because she felt the same influence." In that time, there was no time. Our minds and spirits met as one, and we were ageless. I was more than a father; I was her eternal brother, and she was my eternal sister. I could and did communicate with her, spirit to spirit. I learned more about the truth of our eternal beings and about the power of the Holy Priesthood in those minutes than I have in the 33 years since. Moreover, the behavior that prompted our concern as young parents never returned. I hope it is not inappropriate for me to recount this sacred experience here on this happy occasion. Jenna is very wonderful. I have not been able to give her everything she deserves and would receive from a better father. I love her dearly. Happy birthday, little Jenna!

TOM CHICKEE & HUCKLEBERRY DUCK

A neighbor came to the main office of St. Holiday's Avian Sanctuary (SHAS) this afternoon with two vagabond birdlings, a chick and a duckling. He saw them walking together down the middle of fashionable 8th Avenue. Since they appeared to be bound for Nowhere, he immediately thought of Show Low's well-known ornery-thologist and his doting wifelet, The Lovely One. Their affection for all things small and vulnerable, especially if they have wings and feathers, may someday become the subject of a documentary. Upon application for asylum, SHAS accepted the two birdy buddies and made provision for their protection and sustenance, as would be expected at such a glamorous and incomparable retreat. The Lovely One has fussed and budgeted over the peeping pair. The sanctuary's three famous hens, Prissy, Pepper and Pearl, have been keeping their distance for the time being, wondering aloud what this intrusion may portend. Tom Chickee and Huckleberry Duck are now resting comfortably side by side in a makeshift wire and post pen, which is covered over by a bedsheet to thwart our dive-bombing, murderous hawks. The Lovely One is standing guard with a loaded pistol in the event some predacious cat or fox should trespass upon the domain of the refuge with evil intent. "I will send them straight to hell," she proclaimed, when asked what she would do if the new residents are threatened by such. All of this comes at a busy time for St. Holiday, who has been vying with Johnny Depp for the open ambassadorship to Somalia.

MY ORIOLES ARE RETURNING!

Having observed and recorded their migratory patterns for the past seven years here at Show Low's pre-famous St. Holiday's Avian Sanctuary (SHAS), we anticipated that our beloved Northern Orioles (Bullocks Variety) would return around April 15th. So, on the 13th, we hung a feeder full of sweet juice in our ancient alligator juniper, a favorite place of pilgrimage for these beautiful birds, and we watched for the first migrant to arrive. Right on schedule, in the afternoon of April 15th, the leader came with a greeting from Mexico and more southern parts. The Lovely One took his picture, and it is posted above. As always, the first is a mature male, an elder of the great tribe, which comes to the White Mountains here in eastern Arizona for breeding. It is a supreme joy to see the first one come. We know many others will soon follow in the days ahead. First, the males will arrive, and then the females. Many of these will be returning to SHAS, the place of their nativity. We will provide many feeders for them and keep them consistently filled throughout the breeding season and until they make their way to their southern home in August. It is a satisfying experience to facilitate the propagation of these magnificent birds. At the end of June, we will expect to see the first offspring brought to our feeders. We delight in their playfulness, agility and curiosity. They come right to our windows and peer in, watching our activity inside. This is all we need to renew our commitment to them for the years to come.