Words for Wednesday December 10

Luscious 
Motel 
Wheelbarrow 
Jogging trail
    and/or:
Suspicion 
Speedboat 
Graveyard 
Iris

The ending - at least for now of the story of Susan and the strange, demanding bird. I only used the struck out words.

Susan looked sternly at the bird. "OOP-OOP-OOP!" it screamed.
Susan lost her temper and squawked back at it "Oop-oop-OOOP to you as well, stupid bird! I cannot help you if you won't collaborate and tell me where those dratted eggs fell from your nest!"
The birds looked stunned at Susan, raised its luscious, yellow crest and said Oop-opp-ooop, varied and softly, and in the scrying water Susan saw a tree she knew, The tree with the old wheelbarrow down below, near the beginning of the jogging trail to the beach.
"Now I know where," Susan said, looking once again squarely at the bird. "Meet me there!" With those words she turned around and ran down the stairs from the attic room.

Down by the tree the bird was waiting for her. It oop'ed softly, and Susan picked up the eggs , she found ten, light blue but dirty and carefully collected them in her hanky. Then she looked questioning at the bird, she could see no nest in the tree above her at all. The bird raised its crest again and flew as slowly as possible up along the trunk and disappeared into a hole near the top. Luckily Susan was a wizard, and she simply gathered the hanky in one hand, swing her wand with the other and gently soared up to the nesting hole. She placed the eggs in the soft moss - but what a smell! She peered into the nest, but she saw nothing that did not belong in a bird's nest, moss, a few feathers and leaves. The bird quickly placed herself over the eggs, and Susan noticed that the stench became more pronounced as the bird settled. "I'll keep an eye on you, Opp-bird," Susan said and carefully descended from the tree. She could hear the bird answer with soft Oop-oops.

Home at The Farm, Susan washed her hands thorougly with Martine's mood soap that changed colour and smell to suit the needs of the user. Today it was a deep brown coffee soap, perfect for removing the penetrating stench from the nest.

She then went to the library and found out that the bird was an hoopoe and that the fetid stench was an anti-predator measure, exuded by the brooding bird. "Phew," she thought to herself, "I'm happy that my suspicion about something rotting in the nest was wrong. Anyway I am going to keep an eye on that crazy bird. But now I'd better go back to my writing."

She put the bird books back on their shelves and hurried along the corridor and up the short flight of stairs to the room in the attic.