summer.98
It was last summer. (Or it may be the summer before last summer).
It doesn't contain any ref. to girls.
So I was in the village. There were Larks. They used to have their nests under our roofs. So our neighbors had. You don't think there were any difference between our roofs, do you? So one, (or may be more but I was taking in one), one nest had fallen. There were three baby birds. You jumped to conclusion I should say: "Hello, Breakfast," don't you?
There were many people in the surrounds. But all of them reckoned, it was my business. Of course I reckoned that too. (Kind soul, like animals, haven't good luck with girls) So I was some kind of Paganel. Do you know what baby birds eat in general way? Yes, they eat flies. By the way have you ever seen Magnifiest Seven? (I have some stuff about it in "Russian Stale"). My favorite game was catching flies alive with my only bare hands. (Try this, it's very gripping business). But there were a few flies and many grasshoppers. I fed them grasshoppers. The smallest of them took little efforts to be fed up. And more than this, there were very cold nights. He was last at the food and outermost in the nest. (I built them a nest). So after few days he died. Another one, the robustest of them sat on the edge of the net and then plunged in the high grass. I never found what happened to him. After this I had to leave village and leave single baby bird to the care of others. I returned to the village next weekend. They told me, about Wednesday there were a good flock of young larks. They appealed my birdy and she flied off at last with others.
I wish it would be true. I wish it would be true not because I pitied him very much but because he should be a very smart guy, I think.