The Bird Can Gang gathers together once each year for a brief appearance in my living room. Cats being the creatures that they are, it is not safe for them to remain free for more than a day or two, and even at that, I have occasionally had to retrieve one of the smaller members of the group from under the bed. During the year, certain privileged individuals are allowed to live on either of two plexiglass-fronted shelves. The remainder occupy the Bird Can, a restaurant-sized tin capable of holding at least fifty pounds of sugar. I have to sit on the lid to tie it closed securely.
If you are wondering if there are any singers absent from the chorus, the answer is yes. Age and declining health prohibit a few from making a showing, and of course the Christmas Concert pieces must be tweeted, so moose, bears, mice, sheep, frogs and such were unfortunately excluded from the official stage photo. Rest assured that each and every participant received proper attention before being ushered back to the Can.
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