The little stranger

Well now, there isn’t much to say about Farfel.
He’s a smallish, green little bird, no distinguishing marks aside from an old red leg band which tells us the location of his hatchery and the year of birth.
He sure doesn’t say much. He doesn’t throw out occasional tidbits of words that might give clues to his earlier years.
Farfel is twelve. We know he had a true love once, a life mate who died.
I hear he mourned that loss beyond the allotted time.
He fell in love again but was spurned, repeatedly and often violently for years.
Her name is Binkie. She’s still around so watch out fellas.
Why gentle old Farfel would fall for sharp-beaked cruel Binky is as much a mystery as why my husband, good and gentle as he is fell for a difficult woman like me.
There’s no certain answer to either question but my guess is they both thought it was the best they could do.
Maybe that’s why I am so taken with Farfel.