|The robin's perspicacity
Mad Scientess Jane Expat
I've heard others call me shy before. I don't mind that so much. It frustrates me when they say I'm aloof or unapproachable, though. How can they get it so badly wrong, I wonder? I don't wish to be rude, but sometimes I feel if they made the slightest bit of effort they'd see that I'm simply cautious about bestowing my trust, which is only practical in such a large and unpredictable world. For instance, I know that the people who come into this garden to leave me bits of bread roll mean me no harm. Occasionally I allow them to approach quite close, as they like to imagine that their coaxing noises are having an effect on me. I'm not one to go around brutally shattering others' carefully cherished illusions. I also know that the little dog next door would bite straight through me if given half a chance. And don't get me started on those foxes. If I didn't scorn them for the teeth, it would be for the language. Breathtakingly rude, they are. Nearly as bad as the dragonflies. You may call me "reserved", if you like, but just because I exercise a little discretion to keep from compromising my dignity, let alone my life, doesn't mean I deserve to be labeled a snob, thank you very much.