The Rickeybird discharged all his immediate duties, at least as well as he could recall, and settled into the flight, confident that he would be awakened in time to grab the SUV keys, gather his effects, and smooth his famous eyepatches, and then saunter into his next adventure. MAN, this was the life. Hanging with the big roosters, who only asked that every now and then, he would do something heinous or dangerous or just plain ridiculous (to him!). The rest was gravy! A pretty hen perched nearby... ahh... the perfume... the rustle of soft breast-feathers... the potential! Was he dreaming or...???