So at 34 you are a great tit on its second spring, holding a nest hole and a two-note song the whole street knows by heart. The same 34 makes you a raven on its sixth spring with a partner for life, and a yellow-tailed black-cockatoo still being fussed over by its parents. Age, it turns out, depends a lot on the wings.
In robin years, I’d be 1 year and 2 months. I’m on my second spring. I own a lawn, a song at four in the morning, and a nest in the one spot the neighbours’ cat can’t reach.
Tiny Mario
In robin years, I’d be 1 year and 2 months. I’m on my second spring. I own a lawn, a song at four in the morning, and a nest in the one spot the neighbours’ cat can’t reach.
As a human, i'm very behind in my milestones. :p