Walking down the street one day, I heard a cat. I looked around in the bushes, and all I saw was a crow – low enough in the branches to give the impression of a cat. I soon gave up on my search and continued on my merry way (an activity reserved now for hobbits and insurgents in the forest of Nottingham) when I heard the cat again. I looked around, and again, all I saw was the crow, as I proceeded to heap all sorts of human motivations upon the creature: Trickery, Mirth, Irony, Impersonation. This ‘meow’ was a notion both it and I could understand, and not bad – though a little nasally. Still, there was no cat to be seen. And the crow would not make the sound when I was looking, as its beak transformed itself into a smile. Or did I just make the whole thing up?
Giving the Youngest Among us a Voice 