Here's the final look at the birdies. (Aren't you sick of them yet?)
First we have the swan, the epitome of grace and beauty.
Next, we have a rare shot of a peacock in a tree.
Plus a good shot of that magnificent tail (sturdified with heavyweight interfacing and boning, and it still wouldn't stay up, so it had to be a relaxed peacock tail. Plus can you see that one goofy feather? Who knew that boning had a right way and a wrong way? I do now).
Now we see the notorious canary-turned-chick. This is one stubborn little bird, determined to sport pink legs rather than yellow, like the rest of her kind.
And the smallest, yet loudest, of all. The screech owl.
Most owls, of course, prefer to eat mice. This particular owl, however, has discovered the joy of the Dum-Dum sucker. Sticky plumage, here we come.
Trick-or-treating was a lot of fun, though unseasonably warm. (Isn't that how it goes? When I make an effort to get everybody a cozy costume, that effort turns out to be unnecessary.) I desperately missed our Indiana neighborhood as I was walking with my girls. Halloween was always one of my favorite times. Darn it. Here's to hoping I feel that way about Roosevelt in three years. :)