The Black Footed Ferret
Monica, Age 11, Portland, ME

Rolling, running, jumping
Three playful little kits
Like three little bouncy balls
While their future waits and sits.

Drinking their mother’s milk
While she eats her daily meal
Of Prairie Dogs galore
She has nothing left to fear.

Then the mother and her kits
Happily move into their new home
Where the Prairie Dog used to live
And happily used to roam.

They stay in their dark, warm burrow
For ninety percent of their day
Only coming out to hunt or mate
Or simply out to play.

They might not ever see their father
He is missing out on a lot
Not seeing his three dear kits
Is doing what parents should not.

Their mother teaches them to hunt
And go out and live all on their own
To prepare for life ahead
And when they’re fully-grown.

Then the mother says goodbye
Her heart is a jagged stone
Hoping they’ll stay safe
As she lets them go off on their own.

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