Poor Thing

There's a frost on the ground. So the first thing I did this morning was renew the food in the bird feeders.

The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor Robin do then?
Poor thing.
He'll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing.

Which makes me think of Mary Poppins and how it's no longer permitted to feed the birds in Trafalgar Square.

Why, what harm did it really do? The birds messed up the monuments (so what?) but children loved being at the centre of a fury of wings, with birds perching on their shoulders, their heads....

Mayor Livingston is a good thing in some respects, but in this he's a kill-joy.