Hog on the Run
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
When the moon's not phat*
Winter. I dread the encroaching nights and foul black mornings and ache for sunshine and light. Nothing makes me as happy as those first few bright mornings, or the pleasure of not having to drive home through murky darkness at 4.30 in the afternoon. But there's something I had forgotten about the glory of spring.
We have an anorexic strip of forest backing onto our house, which is lovely from the point of view of, well, the view.
Sadly, in the forest lurks an evil beast. He is small, sheathed in black and beady of eye. He has a lot of little friends. He is (dramatic pause) a crow (cue eerie violin a la "Psycho"). The little bastards nest out there in cosy family groups of around 400, and what they love above all else** is to discuss the issues of the day. Their argument generally goes along these lines:
RAWK RAWK RAWK RAW-KKKK.
GRACK! (cough cough) ARK!! CRAWCK, GROOOUUUWCK......
KARK! BLARCK BRRCRACK! BLECH! RAWK RAWK etc.
They are like a massed choir of angry bronchitis sufferers.
The dawn, arriving at around 5.30am, encourages them to come forth and make whoopee, dragging me out of sleep until I sit up in bed shouting "WHAT? What do you want from me? Mediation, fer Chrissakes? SHUT IT YOU MOULDY FEATHERED HARBINGERS OF DOOM!" Which has no effect, of course. I'm working on arming the local cats with advanced climbing gear and sniper rifles. Which will be useless until they get the hang of the strap-on opposable thumbs. It's a long term plan of course.
*This title has no relevance to the above post, until you watch this and think about forests
**excepting sheeps eyeballs and rotting entrails
:: gibbered Okapi, at 8:30 pm
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Tuesday, April 12, 2005
When the moon's not phat*
Winter. I dread the encroaching nights and foul black mornings and ache for sunshine and light. Nothing makes me as happy as those first few bright mornings, or the pleasure of not having to drive home through murky darkness at 4.30 in the afternoon. But there's something I had forgotten about the glory of spring.
We have an anorexic strip of forest backing onto our house, which is lovely from the point of view of, well, the view.
Sadly, in the forest lurks an evil beast. He is small, sheathed in black and beady of eye. He has a lot of little friends. He is (dramatic pause) a crow (cue eerie violin a la "Psycho"). The little bastards nest out there in cosy family groups of around 400, and what they love above all else** is to discuss the issues of the day. Their argument generally goes along these lines:
RAWK RAWK RAWK RAW-KKKK.
GRACK! (cough cough) ARK!! CRAWCK, GROOOUUUWCK......
KARK! BLARCK BRRCRACK! BLECH! RAWK RAWK etc.
They are like a massed choir of angry bronchitis sufferers.
The dawn, arriving at around 5.30am, encourages them to come forth and make whoopee, dragging me out of sleep until I sit up in bed shouting "WHAT? What do you want from me? Mediation, fer Chrissakes? SHUT IT YOU MOULDY FEATHERED HARBINGERS OF DOOM!" Which has no effect, of course. I'm working on arming the local cats with advanced climbing gear and sniper rifles. Which will be useless until they get the hang of the strap-on opposable thumbs. It's a long term plan of course.
*This title has no relevance to the above post, until you watch this and think about forests
**excepting sheeps eyeballs and rotting entrails
We have an anorexic strip of forest backing onto our house, which is lovely from the point of view of, well, the view.
Sadly, in the forest lurks an evil beast. He is small, sheathed in black and beady of eye. He has a lot of little friends. He is (dramatic pause) a crow (cue eerie violin a la "Psycho"). The little bastards nest out there in cosy family groups of around 400, and what they love above all else** is to discuss the issues of the day. Their argument generally goes along these lines:
RAWK RAWK RAWK RAW-KKKK.
GRACK! (cough cough) ARK!! CRAWCK, GROOOUUUWCK......
KARK! BLARCK BRRCRACK! BLECH! RAWK RAWK etc.
They are like a massed choir of angry bronchitis sufferers.
The dawn, arriving at around 5.30am, encourages them to come forth and make whoopee, dragging me out of sleep until I sit up in bed shouting "WHAT? What do you want from me? Mediation, fer Chrissakes? SHUT IT YOU MOULDY FEATHERED HARBINGERS OF DOOM!" Which has no effect, of course. I'm working on arming the local cats with advanced climbing gear and sniper rifles. Which will be useless until they get the hang of the strap-on opposable thumbs. It's a long term plan of course.
*This title has no relevance to the above post, until you watch this and think about forests
**excepting sheeps eyeballs and rotting entrails
:: gibbered Okapi, at 8:30 pm
