I love Peeps. I know, I know. Everyone loves a Peep. But I promise you: I have Peep-cipes that date back to the early 1980s. Peepza. Peep Dacquiris. Peep Fondue. Peeptinis. Peep Facial. The Peep Diet. Peep Salad. Peep Tacos. Peep-Pops. Angel-Peep Cake. Peanut Butter and Peep Sandwiches. The list goes on.
And I am a Peep Purist: Only the yellow baby-chick Peeps, please.
Until now.
Now, I am absolutely in love with gray peeps. As in the baby peeps of the American Bald Eagles who have taken up residence across the cove of our lake house!
Can you stand it? We can’t. We have a field scope permanently trained on the nest, and take turns watching Mama and Papa feeding their funny gray puffs bites and bits of fish and other prey. We know there are two babies. One is aggressive and brave, and sits on the edge of the huge, rough nest of sticks and twigs; the other stays deeper inside, so we only see its fluffy head and hungry mouth.
Dear Mother Nature: Thank you for the perfect Easter basket.
ginnygram 