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| Prince Volvski with Kuppie on his Lap by Foutoux All Rights Reserved Copyright L.Ivison 2013 |
Prince Volovski was in a good mood. Sitting in front of the Great Hall Fire and pinned to the sofa by Penelope the Kuppie who was asleep on his lap, he reflected on his success with the Mowls - the crossed mole/owls who were enjoying their first sight of the world from the rapple trees (rose/apple trees). He stroked his Kuppie and looked at the Trulips on the grand piano noticing how badly they drooped because the rose blooms were too heavy for the tulip stems. "You win some, you lose some" he thought.
It was late March and the Prince stood up to look out of the window. Spring with its soft light was creeping over the towers and turrets, and the sun was at this moment striking the rapple trees painting each twig as if with silver. From inside the Chateau you couldn't feel the icy Siberian wind which had been battering the coast for the last two weeks. Still, the red daffodils were still in bloom and his Crimson Neige rose was doing well.
With these reflections, he looked again at the rapple trees and noticed that there wasn't a single mowl in the branches. Why, only yesterday there had been a dozen looking at the world with their large eyes inherited from their father Woody the Owl. And then he realised with dismay that they had all fallen out of the tree and were lying on their backs.
The Prince rushed out of the chateau and turning each Mowl over he noticed their disquieting habit of crying - large tears were pouring down their cheeks. The young hybrids could see the world, could climb small trees but, the Prince realised, they had no sense of balance. No sooner were they up a tree than they fell down again.
That night before the Great Hall Fire the Prince asked himself how could he give the Mowls a sense of balance? Then he hit on an idea. A neighbour Prince Moroski, a very difficult man, had opened his grounds to the public and had a splendid collection of exotic birds and monkeys................
See the next episode tomorrow.
Foutoux. All Rights Reserved. Copyright L.Ivison 2013

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