This story was inspired by some light lines and a blob in a dark corner of an abstract painting, and the Travelocity garden gnome. To see the picture go to http://ozlandbard.blogspot.ca/2011_03_01_archive.html

Gnarly, Gweedy Gnibby Gnobs sat in the shelter of the small, shallow cave and cried. He was so tired, and very, very hungry and thirsty, and there was nothing to eat or drink on this bare shelf part way up the mountain.

He had started his travels much lower down, in an area that was full of trees, and alive with small animals and birds. And, unfortunately for him, there were also larger animals. Every time he had tracked and neared his prey, and was about to pounce, a fox or something else, larger and stronger then Gnibby had pounced at him. He had barely escaped several times, the last time the fox had got his claws in Gnibby’s shirt. Only a mighty, desperate pull had saved him. And torn his shirt. After that, he had headed up, hoping to get above those dangers and still find rats, moles, squirrels or rabbits that he could catch. But that didn’t happen, and now, here he was, alone and lonely, and afraid he would stave to death.

Taking a deep breath, he shook his shoulders and muttered ‘get hold of yourself, Gnibby. You certainly will starve if you sit here crying!’ He sighed, and wiped his face and nose on his ragged shirt tail. Then he looked around carefully. Oh! Over there, was that….? yes, it was! A tree! It was growing out of the steep face of the ledge, and….yes, out where the branches joined, a nest! And it looked like there were eggs! Before his mind had made a decision, his body had taken over, and he was on his way to investigate.

Yes, there were eggs, three of them, and they were big ones. One of them would fill his belly with both food and liquid. Making sure his bag was securely set over his head and shoulder, he turned and slowly, carefully, let himself down. His feet searched and finally he felt the bark of the tree under his right foot. Cautiously he looked down, keeping his eyes on the tree, until he could get both feet firmly planted. Then he let go of the ledge and squatted. For a moment he didn’t move, just concentrated on recovering his breath and his balance.

When his breathing and heart beat had slowed, he slowly turned until he was facing outward, toward the nest. Inching his way forward he approached, and at last was able to grasp the side of the nest and pull himself up enough to look in. Three beautiful, wonderful, eggs! Still kneeling, he straightened his body enough to reach in and cup one of the eggs in both hands. Surely, the birds wouldn’t begrudge him one, he thought