Talk to me.Offer your grooviness.About the LadyNext pageArchive

Story of my life.

Existential Love. 

Brigitte Bardot and a cute little birdy!


Jacobin pigeon, side view. 


This bird is a badass.
It’s so little. ♥





Me. Someone come scratch my head. Its my favorite.

My heart is full of happy because of this picture.

Awww, it has a birdy smile.


a bird in hand | by Barbara

Featured on Best Post Archive ||  All the best Posts from Tumblr
(via madcatterlol, fucknicethings)
"You wouldn’t believe it! It had wings, and it was flying, and everything. Oh my god, it was horrible!"



*buzz, buzz, buzz*  (I am busy being a bee today)

I feel the need to reblog something unbelievably cute today.

What happens when the birds and the bees have sex

Awww, it has a birdy smile. :D
The Story of Little Phil
A number of days ago, my beautiful cat, Simon Ruppington Babyhead the 1st, spotted something in the yard. He didn’t seem to be terribly interested in hunting it, or harming it, but he was fascinated with this little baby creature. It was a tiny little blackbird that had somehow wound up on the ground with an injury. It couldn’t fly. It was just sitting there chilling like a little birdy does when it’s lost from its nest.
I didn’t want to touch it at first, because mother birds tend to flip out if their babies have human scent on them. So I kept an eye on him, and got him to hop on to a small branch so I could rescue it from my cat (just in case he decided to go for it). It seemed a little uncomfortable in the makeshift nest I made for it, so I transported it to the small garden my mother is keeping.
About an hour later I went to check on it and it had gotten itself all mucked up in the garden. It seemed unable to hold itself up. I figured, maybe it needed a little water. I brought it some water but it was uninterested. Upon realizing that its mother probably wasn’t going to come back for it, I picked it up and gave it a little bath in a small pail full of warmish water. Its stability began to decline rapidly, so I sat in back and held it in my hands, stroking its little birdy head as it dried off from its bath.
I sat there for about half an hour before I decided to lay it to rest under a tree. That was where it took its final breaths. I wish I would have known how to rescue it so it wouldn’t have had to die.
My sister named it ‘Little Phil’. For some reason we have a weird inside joke that all blackbirds are Philips. And since it was just a little guy, well, you get the point.


oh my god


the tiniest most wonderful little aahghjghajgdhgasfgd its so CUTE


oh my god

I want like 700 of those things. in my arms. RIGHT NOW.

(via missoctober77)