He was a colorfully dressed little guy; rather shy, keeping to himself as much as possible. I really didn't know where he came from. Some said from Central America. Hard to believe. He was so small and fragile-appearing. He arose with the sun, quietly working the garden and yard for tiny insects, berries, and invisible delicacies. An afternoon nap in some shade was a well-deserved and expected respite. Late in the afternoon he would often reappear. I enjoyed his daily company though we never spoke. One day, quietly, without fanfare he was gone. I had no idea where his next home would be. Kinda sad. But that's migration.
He lived across the fence but I could see him well. He was a colorfully dressed little man. Nothing matched, but he wasn't in to fashion. I never really knew where he and the little lady came from. We meant to get over there for a visit but never found the time. I heard they were from Central America. He was a wiry little guy, arising with the sun to dig in his small garden and look for insects, berries, and delicacies we could not see. He disappeared in the afternoon heat, but often showed again late in the evening. I enjoyed our daily company across the fence though we never spoke. A wave would suffice. One day, quietly and without fanfare, he was gone. My wife had seen a black family car assist the little lady into the back...alone. Sad to say, I had no idea where his next home would be. And I could have known with a trip across the fence. But I was too busy. Migration.
