Reginald the Cardinal

In the heart of Whispering Woods, where brilliant sunshine dappled the fluttering leaves and fuzzy grey squirrels practiced their nut-juggling routines, lived Reginald, a luminescent cardinal with a passion as fiery as his scarlet plumage. Opera, not boring seeds and early worms, fueled his passionate soul. While his feathered brethren chirped mundane melodies over and over, Reginald soared through long solo songs, his voice echoing like a lost Pavarotti in a treehouse high up in the forest’s canopy.

This day, during a particularly dramatic rendition of Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma” attracted the attention of Beatrice, a grouchy, sleep deprived mother squirrel whose frown lines were permanently etched on her furry face. Beatrice tracked down Reginald’s endless song and climbed straight up to the limb that he was perched upon and screamed, “Must you sound like a strangled cat, Cardinal?” she squeaked, brandishing a particularly large acorn as if she wanted to hit Reginald in the head with it.

Reginald, not perturbed, ruffled his crimson feathers, and puffed up his bird chest. “Dear Beatrice,” he trilled, “this is not caterwauling, it’s art! I express my inner bird through the majesty of opera!”, with that, he brushed his feathers in Beatrice’s face and flew off.

Beatrice snorted, scattering a shower of acorn shrapnel directed straight at Reginald’s retreating shadow. “Art? More like a squirrel’s worst nightmare.” And with that, she stormed off, yet another acorn brandished like a tiny battle-axe in her tiny paw.

Undeterred, Reginald embarked on a mission to win Beatrice’s approval. “I don’t need her approval, but I want to make her smile.” he thought to himself. He practiced scales with clear, dewdrop microphones, perfected his vibrato on dandelion fluff as it drifted away on a breeze, and even attempted an ant hill-fueled high C (unsuccessful and itchy, but impressive nonetheless). Reginald’s neighbors became ever-so interested in his shenanigans. They often chattered among each other in wonderment of what on Earth that fancy Cardinal was up to! Finally, the day of Reginald’s grand performance arrived.

Perched atop a towering old oak, bathed in the golden light of dawn, Reginald took a deep breath, filled his crimson chest and unleashed his operatic arsenal. All of the forest creatures who witnessed Reginald practicing day after day awoke with the sun and assembled nearby to see what grouchy Beatrice would do….

Read the hilarious and heartfelt ending on my Patreon page.

Wrapping Up

If you’re keen on scoring a print of this painting, feel free to use the contact form below. We can work together to create the perfect size and style of print that you desire. You can also use the form for commissions or gallery appearances, and I’ll get back to you faster than a squirrel burying a nut.

Or, stop by the Lost River Works Gallery in Wardensville, WV in March of 2024.