MOORHEN BABY,

waterhoen (dutch), Gallinula chloropus.
I cycle in the morning to the centre, delivering Mischa's nicely pasted photos to the shop where they will be framed. Mission completed I walk through the Paleistuin (the garden of the royal palace). The alchemilla leaves have magic drops everywhere, the place where they grow at the edge of the pond makes it a bit difficult to take pictures, but I try.
My route back home leads me along the little park of the Stadhouderslaan and there in the thickly overgrown water I find the moorhen parents with two babies.
The one in the picture makes loud noises and shakes her tiny, oh so tiny wings. Father does not like her performance and with his bill takes her little head in his and for a moment shakes her. I am astonished, never ever did I see how parent birds punish their little ones, if that is what I see now. I take a photo of the scene, not so clear as I would like.
The surface of the water is completely filled with plants and the birds swim between or walk upon the leaves.
I cycle further and at the bridge of the Segbroeklaan policemen on motorcars stop all the traffic and a procession of an infinitly number of trucks comes along, making deafening noise hooting. I watch for a moment and then decide to make a detour, there seems no end of the procession.
Later I find out it is a demonstration of truckers against the competition they fear of eastern-european colleagues.
The weather is still lovely and sunny!

My haiku:

Hush little baby
You cannot eat yet by yourself
Father still feeds you

And the proverb:

Figs are sweet, but fictions are sweeter.