I need to drop this here - I feed birds. At a recent wine-tasting event, I learned that it has become my street-cred, my local identity. My neighbors have officially dubbed me the bird lady, seeking my presumed expertise to ponder the Eastern Bluebird migration - or do they migrate? (True story).

How do I identify? Depending on the day's mood, I will align with Edgar Allen Poe, Hitchcock, or Mary Poppins as I watch the birds. There is never a straight line with me. But back to today's picture - it's a mouse, not a bird. What do birds have to do with mice, you ask? Ecosystem - a full circle of life.

Watching the birds during a recent snowstorm, I couldn't get over the volume of seed being thrown onto the ground. "Seriously, birds- Eastern Bluebirds are starving somewhere in the southern hemisphere. I think." The tossing was so much so that the feeders needed to be refilled. As the "bird lady," I simply couldn't allow my feathered friends to go without. Especially in this weather. Especially with the watchful eyes of my neighbors. Oh, the pressure. Jacket and boots on, birdseed bag in hand, onward.

The snow was beautiful; it was quiet and still outside. Luckily, no one had noticed my empty feeders. Still, my eyes found a small sign of life - tiny footprints dotting the snow-covered sidewalk. The prints zigged and zagged, shuffled, skipped, and ultimately hopped to a small mound of snow banked against the feeder post. The snow crunched under my boots, breaking the stillness. Alarmed, a tiny mouse popped out from the bank, deciding whether to flee or retreat. Contemplating my new guest, I froze. It looked cold but appeared happily fed as it continued to nibble on birdseed, flipping it between its front paws.

Deciding not to disturb the mouse, I called on physics to complete the task of filling the feeders, relatively immobile. Its large eyes surveyed me, ultimately darting back into the bank, deciding I was no longer a threat, or maybe I looked ridiculous. I began my retreat as the wind set in, snow biting my face, trying to tip-toe backward, not wanting to disturb the ecosystem. I welcomed this seed janitor - thankful for the consumption of the excess. Hoping this was a repeatable visit, my spring cleaning held the potential of being minimal. Regardless, the mouse became my morning muse as I began to draw.

I present to you - Scurried - a winter mouse. (a.k.a. Seed Janitor.)

Prints and cards will be available at my studio: www.happypigstudio.com. Feel free to like, comment, or share.

Peace, love, and light. Be good people.

P.S. As far as I can tell, the mouse continues to thrive, although I have not had a recent visual. I have seen a Cooper's Hawk and a fox. The story probably continues.