What's in a Name?

Daddy texted that the new granddaughter has a name. She is to have the first name of her newly deceased second cousin. "EM" has become "EP." Welcome to the family, EP, complete with all its dysfunctions. I have zero doubt your namesake would have been a terrific mother, but I am still greatly relieved you will remain under the same umbrella as your siblings, whatever the rains which fall upon that umbrella. The elder siblings seemed equally relieved when the subject of Little Sister came up easily and calmly at breakfast this morning. I was certainly relieved to allow it to come up easily. Nobody keeps secrets better than a former child prostitute, but . . . The theraputed child prostitute needs good reason to keep secrets and I haven't been content with any of the reasons I have been given on this one.

The new feather baby seems livelier for the warm night, but I remain clueless on which direction to go with it. Been surfing around and so far I am only becoming more confused for the information overload. Even identifying the species is proving rough. Despite my rounds with chickens, I remain profoundly ignorant of birds, in general, wild birds, in particular. So much Nature and so few brain cells. . . The surf continues, with hopes that I will be able to make some phone calls at a more social hour. So far, I am calling the feathered ^it^, "Raptor."

Male? Female? Dipped if I know. . .