Maggie's Farm

Scott at Powerline has a good grip on the penis stories. Honestly, I would not eat a Reindeer's Johnson if you paid me, but maybe I am homophobic or something.

Or maybe I just feel bad for all those poor Reindeer who are now running around the tundra without their equipment.

Speaking of the Noble Male Member, I was entertained by some hot Purple Grackle (aka Common Grackle) romance on my lawn this morning. The male does quite a display for the lady: he hunches up his shoulders, splays his wings, and raises a dramatic iridescent ruff of feathers on his neck as he struts before her: he tries to make like a Bird of Paradise. Then he hops on top of her for about 4 seconds. He did that twice in five minutes.

Afterwards, she did a shake to compose her feathers and her excited feminine heart, no doubt - and he walked off cheerfully, with a bit of a swagger, looking for bugs in the grass.

I think it was consensual, but she did seem a little put out by it all. Women are sometimes like that.