The Spinning Seed

A dry, winged maple seed lay on the garden flagstones, curved like a tiny propeller blade. Chirp! Clamping its plump brown base gently in my beak, I carried it over to the low stone retaining wall and scrambled up to the wide top ledge. Peering over the sunlit edge, I gave my head a brisk flick and tossed the seed into the open air. Whirrr! Instead of tumbling straight down, it began twirling in a frantic, golden blur, spiraling softly toward the grass like a miniature helicopter! Squawk! Flapping my stubby wings in pure delight, I hopped down from stone to stone to retrieve it and launch it once more.