Baby Groucho

When did the word "SUCKER" get tattooed onto my forhead? Why didn't I feel it? Didn't it hurt? Shouldn't I have noticed it was there when I looked in the mirror? And why are my glasses whop-sided? (Ignore those ugly eyebrows!)




I guess the name is appropriate. See the next photo! This little guy fell out of a nest in my neighbor's yard. I couldn't just leave him there. The photo isn't very good, but you can see the eyebrows. I don't know what kind of bird he is, but Groucho Marx is his father!






He has a small injury on one wing, so it may take a little longer for him to learn to fly. He is a very chatty fellow. Tony doesn't know he's here yet, but when I asked Rick to take a close up photo of my face so I could tattoo SUCKER on it, he immediately asked, "What have you done? Is that a chicken I hear?"




No chicken! Just another cute baby that crossed my path!