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The Family Tree

I don't know what kind of cactus it is!  I know what it is not.  It is not a saguaro.  I know where it is:  at the Aviary at the Desert Museum.  

 But every family has a relative who knows how to accessorize; you know, that the rest of us would be embarrassed to wear, and so we look dowdy while she glitters in the summer sun.  

 Actually, I don't think I have any relatives like that, and if any of them ever reads this post--which might be against their religion--they will be insulted.  So let me retract now, and say most plainly, that I do have relatives that resemble cacti; some of them (some of us), very prickly, indeed.

 The last time we visited the Aviary at the Desert Museum, a pair of birds had built a nest on the huge wire enclosure; half-inside and half-outside the Aviary.  One bird was captive, the other free, but . . . , Oh, you know how that happens!  And unlike Paul Harvey, I do not know the rest of the story.  

 However, I think I do have relatives that became cozy through a barbed wire fence.  But that is another story.  

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