Note: A preview from my upcoming autobiography, Life’s Too Short to Smoke Cheap Cigars (Or to Drink Cheap Whiskey.)
Modern Wildlife
Modern “wildlife watchers” are amazing.
We used to call such folks “birdwatchers,” but now they watch all manner of wildlife. In the stretch of mountains where I regularly spend days and long weekends loafing around, (I disguise my loafing by calling it ‘fishing’ or ‘elk hunting’) even the skunks are beginning to complain about the retinues of binocular-wielding humans that follow them around all day.
Not even urban wildlife is safe from the prying eyes of humans. I recently saw a couple engaging in some wildlife watching in the urban environs of Denver:
“See, just to the left of that dumpster. It’s a Bearded Wino.”
“No, honey, check your Field Guide. That’s a Mustachioed Dumpster Crawler.”
I quickly stepped in to correct the wildlife watching couple. “You’ve got the older edition of Urban Wildlife of the Western United States,” I told them. “You should check the new politically-sanitized edition. What you have there is a Facial-Hair Enhanced Residentially Challenged Person.”
In the Beginning
My own bird and wildlife watching began at an early age, at least in part because I was surrounded most of the time by various birds and critters; it was hard not to watch them. In fact, sometimes the wildlife would watch you, which could get downright unnerving.
At the tender age of twelve, a youth spent mostly in the hardwood forests of Northeast Iowa had taught me about most of the local flora and fauna, including the ubiquitous Barred Owl. These birds were known locally as “hoot owls” after one of their calls, a characteristic series of deep hoots, boomed out in a ringing, “Who cooks for you – who cooks for you-ALL.”
I’m not sure why the locals chose that name, though, because no other bird alive today is capable of the cacophony of screeches, wails and howls as the Barred Owl of the upper Midwest. The very presence of this virtuoso of the nighttime woods was the source our terror that dark night, as it was on many other nights in the deep forest.
I don’t know what possesses young boys to wander around in the woods at night. A nighttime forest can be a rather friendly place at times. In winter, when the leafless trees allow the moonlight in to reflect off the snow, the light will be bright enough to cast sharp shadows against the snow. But, in the late summer, when the trees have grown thick canopies of leaves that block out all but glimpses of the stars and the moon is new, the woods can be so deeply pitch black that navigation gets hazardous.
It was on just such a pitch-black night that my cousin, childhood friend, fishing buddy and partner in various mischief Bill and I decided to take a short cut through the woods, up a steep hill and across a meadow belonging to the Girl Scouts of America. The reason we decided to take this hike was simple, we had been fishing on the lower reaches of Bear Creek and my parent’s house was a good three miles if we followed the road back, but only a mile if we cut over a ridgeline, across the Girl Scout camp land and through my parent’s woods down to the house. Simple, right?
Twelve-year-old boys never undertake anything simple.
The hike started out great. In the relatively open ground of the creek bottom and the power line cut leading up to the Girl Scout land, starlight provided enough light even in the new moon. We couldn’t see much, but it was enough, and the friendly calls of whippoorwills accompanied us.
Not many people these days get to hear whippoorwills, their numbers have sadly diminished, due in large part to agricultural chemicals and habitat loss. In our youth they were legion, and the endless repetition of their namesake call rang through the woods at night all summer long. They called back and forth across the meadows on the hilltops, “whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will” and if you got close enough, you could hear the faint “chuck” at the end of each call. You might even catch a glimpse of the cigar-shaped body and rounded wings of the birds as it fluttered to a new calling spot.
Bill and I had a great time walking across the open ground leading up to my folk’s upper meadow, trying to locate each whippoorwill as it flushed. But that changed when we entered my parent’s woods, under the great overhanging oaks and hickories. The whippoorwills stayed out on the edges and didn’t venture far into the thick forest. In the tall trees our vision was useless as even the faint starlight was blocked out. The darkness was a tangible presence as we slipped silently through the forest night. Our eyesight was useless, but we knew danger was everywhere. Strange sounds echoed through the trees, eerie presences whisked by overhead, and small things scuttled past underfoot. A cold breeze rattled through the tree branches.
“I can’t see a dang thing!” Bill exclaimed.
I was waving my hands out front, feeling my way from tree to tree. “Don’t worry about it, I know every tree in these woods.”
Bill wasn’t too comforted by my show of confidence.
But Then…
The silence of the forest was broken by a series of eight deep, booming hoots from the hillside above and behind us.
“Hoooo-hoo-hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-awww.”
“Hoot owl!” I told Bill. “I ever show you how I can call hoot owls?”
“No,” Bill replied, “But right now I’d rather you show me the way back down to your house.”
“Aw, c’mon.” I insisted. “Watch this, it’s great.” I tipped back my head and howled back at the owl: “Hoooo-hoo-hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-awww.”
Three answering series of hoots sounded from varying directions. “Geez, Bill, I got three of ‘em answering! This will be great!” In the silent darkness, I somehow got the impression Bill was adopting a skeptical expression.
“Hoooo-hoo-hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-awww.” I howled again at the birds. Three answering series of hoots rang out, closer now.
“See, they’re coming right in! Watch this, I’ll call them right in on top of us.”
“I don’t think I like this. Maybe you oughtta leave the owls alone.” Bill advised. Despising Bill’s sudden display of the better part of valor, I belted out another owl call.
“Hoooo-hoo-hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-awww.”
Silence.
“Maybe we better head on back now.” Bill whispered. An ominous presence seemed to be gathering around us.
Owls, you see, can fly in complete silence, due to soft downy edges on their flight feathers. This feature enables them to float softly up on an unsuspecting rabbit or mouse; it also enables them to drift in on what seems to be a strange, rival owl calling threateningly on the edge of their hunting range. They will do this even if the strange rival is really a twelve-year old boy.
As much as I can reconstruct from the awful moments that followed, three owls drifted in on silent wings, each expecting a rival, and each finding one – the other two owls, in fact, that I’d likewise tolled in with my patented owl call. The first owl to sense the others must have reacted in typical hoot-owl fashion.
One moment Bill and I were crouched silently under the giant oaks, listening carefully to a night where a few insects seemed to be the only other living things about. The next, a horrifying sound split the night wide; a cross between the wailing of a lost soul, and the enraged screech of a wildcat attacking to defend her young, cast forth at the decibel level of a train whistle. The other two owls responded in kind.
The scream of an enraged hoot owl facing an adversary would cause an axe murderer to cringe in terror. We were two twelve-year old boys with three of them sending horrifying challenges ringing back and forth in the trees above our heads. Only one course of action lay open to us.
“RUN!” Bill shouted.
“FOLLOW ME!” I shouted back, already shifting into high gear. “I KNOW EVERY TREE IN THESE…”
WHAMM!!!
A rock-hard object hit me in the face, an explosion of light resolved slowly into a constellation of stars, wheeling slowly in front of my face. “Funny, I thought the trees were too thick to see the stars here, and why are they spinning?” Then I realized I was laying on my back. I’d run headlong into a white oak tree.
The shrieks of three maddened banshee owls rang through the night; faintly, I could hear the crashing of Bill’s fleeing tennis shoes. Then, WHACK! Bill charged into a shagbark hickory with enough force to drive bits of bark into his forehead.
I managed to get to my feet, terror of the horrible wailing driving me on. I’d gone perhaps ten feet when I clipped another tree trunk in the pitch dark and went spinning to the ground again. A few feet away, I heard Bill using language that would have caused his mother to run for a stout switch, as he proceeded to slam into tree trunk after tree trunk like a small, frightened ball in a giant, darkened pinball machine.
Somehow, slamming from tree to tree in the pitch dark, we managed to make it back down the creek bottom to my parent’s house. In the dim light shining from the porch, we splashed across the creek to collapse gasping in the front yard. The owls still screeched faintly in the background.
“Well,” I informed Bill, in between gasps, “I told you I knew where every tree was.”
I’m amazed to this day that Bill had the strength to attack me after our ordeal, but attack he did, and I fought him off at the cost of a black eye and two badly bruised fists.
As It Stands
In years following, I spent many a night in the woods, listening with great enjoyment to the wailing of hoot owls in their nocturnal battles, and I even called a few more in by mimicking their eight-hoot call. I exchanged a few conversations with owls perched in trees right overhead, their sudden challenges never frightened me again the way they did that first time. To this day, the call of a hoot owl fills me with nostalgia. Deep inside, though, somewhere down in the recesses of my psyche, there remains a twelve-year old boy who will always know a few moments of panic, recalling that night. I generally get over that moment of dread. Of course, I do have my confident knowledge of the northeast Iowa forests to my advantage.
After all, I know every tree in those woods.
That’s a great story, thanks. My life at 12 was far far different. I’m envious.
That was a fun read. Thanks Animal!
Fabulous.
Best owl story I got was tracking a great horn owl on the campus of Edgewood College in Madison. Wife and I were driving on Monroe St. and she sees if flying between the trees and we pull off and proceed to walk around as it’s flying from tree to tree. Enormous bird.
“
Who cookstwo hoots for you –Who cookstwo hoots for you-ALL.”FTFY
Really enjoy the stories, Animal. I can relate to some, we hear the whippoorwills just before daylight in the late summer, when the evenings have cooled off and the windows are open. I enjoy the hoot owls in the middle of the night, I always try to stay awake for the next call but somehow, sometimes I miss it. The mosquitoes are so bad here I didn’t spend much time in the woods ’til fall, always enjoyed it.
Keep up the good work!
For years I thought people were saying “barn owl” instead of “barred owl.” Strix varia is present throughout the Eastern US, and parts of Canada and the Pacific Northwest.
Click through for audio.
Thanks, Animal!
Different birds.
I don’t understand. Why didn’t you use the flashlights on your phones?
*eyeroll*
(In defense of my childhood growing up on not-quite-an-acre with irrigation rights, I didn’t buy my first cell phone till after graduating high school. No three mile hikes through pitch black forests, but no high-octane pocket PC till I was nearly twenty.)
(Great story, btw.)
I, and I suspect Animal, grew up before LED flashlights. Two “D” cells would produce a glow of maybe 12 lumens max for ten minutes, with usable light for maybe an hour.
Nobody except cops and military had halogen flashlights such as early Maglites which are only marginally more efficient than the old-school incandescents we used.
Yeah, pretty much this. The events described (more or less accurately) here would have been 1973 or 1974, if I remember right.
Great story.
I think they are called barn owls regionally; that’s what people called the more ubiquitous owls in North Texas.
We have a few screech owls around where I live in Tucson. Also a blood-curdling call.
My one and only owl story:
We were living in Dallas, and I mean in Dallas (not far from White Rock Lake). I was letting the Pit Beasts out into the backyard one night after the leaves had fallen, and they were acting kind of odd. So I’m looking around, and the neighbor’s tree is backlit by the moon and some clouds. I see something in the tree and I’m thinking “what is that”.
Then the somethings spread their six foot wings and took off, huge and dead silent. The two 90 pound Pit Beasts and I all collided as we bolted for the back door. I had no idea we had Great Horned Owls in the middle Dallas. Spooky.
When I was in grad school a Great Horned Owl took up residence on the University of Arizona Main Library. The screeching from the indian groups wanting it gone and the bunny huggers wanting it protected was amusing. Eventually it must have found the food sources diminishing and it left several months later after much newspaper ink had been spilled.
“the bunny huggers wanting it protected”
Which is hugely ironic considering its main prey is bunnies, etc.
Why did the Indians want it gone?
Also, what kind of Indians?
On the one hand, Arizona. On the other hand, university.
[golf clap]
The Great Horned is considered a messenger of death (learned about this from reading Craig Johnson, “The Cold Dish”).
The Barn Owl is a different critter entirely. In fact it’s in a different genus, Tyto alba, where the Barred Owl is Strix varia.
Both can sound really creepy.
Looking at pics, I think those were barn owls in North Texas.
You can call in Screech Owls with recordings of them. It’s a fun thing for a summer evening in the Virginia mountains.
I had no idea we had Great Horned Owls in the middle Dallas.
Me either until one visited me on my back porch in Dallas. There was a whole family of them living in the trees along a wet weather creek that ran through our backyard.
I’m surprised I haven’t seen any owls at the current house. We have plenty of rodents to support one.
I’ve never seen one in the wild in the daytime. It was the combination of size (they are huge) and the dead silence that spooked me. I’m sure it being night didn’t help any.
I’ve seen barred owls out during the day in the Louisiana swamps. In isolated, densely wooded areas, under the tree canopy. It’s definitely unexpected.
I live next to 1000 acres or so of state forest. There are owls about, and every now and then you’ll see one in daytime.
Don’t know why or how but we have a owl in our neighborhood. From the size and color I think it is a barred owl. I guess he took a Hawaiian vacation and decided not to go home.
“Summertime and the livin’ is easy”
Sure it’s not the indigenous short-eared owl known locally as Pueo?
Just like the state bird.
We all know that it’s a Canada goose who got lost.
We all know that it’s a
Canada gooseHate Bird, The Bird That Hates who got lost.*Ahem* Fixed.
Followup on the equal pay kerfuffle in soccer:
The women are making the elementary mistake of believing that compensation should be determined based on input, not output.
Put this in the links article but it’s dead so putting it here again (in reference to the DNC leak timeline):
I couldn’t find anything about rumored leaks beforehand, so it’s possible.
In fact, the DNC thing started with an emergency meeting of Wasserman and a Perkins Coie lawyer… who were involved in funding the fake Trump dossier. Perkins Coie suggested hiring Crowdstrike.
DWS, Perkins Coie May Have Engaged CrowdStrike Instead Of FBI Without Consulting DNC Officers
As I was reading through that article I was trying to imagine the level of paranoia that party members at even middle management type level must have all the time. Constantly worried that someone in your own party is double crossing you to get a new job or doing someone else a favor.
I haven’t seen a true breakdown for all of the components that go into the pay structure, which really muddles the entire argument.
The teams should have the same % of revenue sharing for game day revenue and tv ratings generated (US soccer says it cannot split tv money, but that does seem like bullshit), and per diem should be the same (I have to add another aside, the “joke” from Carli Lloyd that women are smaller and eat less…well, yeah that is actually true). Same with merchandising, anything that doesn’t clearly identify as USMNT or WMNT can be 50/50 I guess.
However, prize money from competitions will still be (should be) based on worldwide interest. Unfortunately, this is where any pay inequity will largely lie.
The funny thing is it’s actually irrelevant whether they generate more money or not. That’s some form of Karl Marx’s labor theory of value applied to athletes.
Their salaries are lower because they lack bargaining strength and there is no other demand for their skills. They can’t say they’re not going to play for team US and go earn comparable money in some other league.
That said, they are free to hold out for whatever salary they think hey deserve. But now that the Cup is over, once again their bargaining position is even weaker.
The funny thing is it’s actually irrelevant whether they generate more money or not. That’s some form of Karl Marx’s labor theory of value applied to athletes.
I think the women’s complaint may be based on the labor theory of value – they work just as hard at the men so they should get paid the same. Although I don’t recall them actually saying that; what I seem to be seeing is “The mens make moar munnys and its NOT FAIR”. Which isn’t even a theory, however mistaken, but more like a temper tantrum.
Saying that you should get paid based on the revenue you generate, rather than the labor your put in, is not the labor theory of value.
It’s still debatable as to whether or not they do “work just as hard.” Aside from the very obvious differences in the other teams they are playing, qualifying for the WC in general is harder for men than it is for women. The men qualify over a two year period and the women a two week period. There are more teams in the Men’s WC vs. the Women’s.
When they played Chile, the women rotated nearly the entire squad. This is something the men’s team would not be able to do if they were trying to make it out of the group stage.
I think the same can be said for the Men, with regard to playing for the National team. They have no bargaining power either, unless they have a grandparent from Italy or Mexico or something.
take her money.
Meh, it’d take more effort to uncrumple than it’s worth.
That was a really great read, Animal! Thanks for sharing.
OT: Antifa’s finest.
https://twitter.com/SillySnowflakes/status/1147892764622802945
And not event close to a single “would” in the whole group. Not even in the same area code.
And individually unthreatening. Many actually look as pathetic as I’d expect.
The problem with that is even a “would” Antifa would be a “wouldn’t” if you care at all about not catching communicable diseases.
Even their pictures smell
Are these the same owl from My Cousin Vinny?
“The two hoots”
Music for this story
https://youtu.be/o0mGFjAySTw
kids should not be in the woods after dark. did you not learn your fairy-tales (although this was quite atmospheric and could be basically a dark fairy-tale story for a urban youth )
Ah, but you see, those woods are European woods.
American woods only have cannibal hillbillies, psycho serial killers, and large animals.
US just has a lack of houses made of candy
also – and it seems I have to keep telling you people this – leave the poor elk be.
But they are so tasty!
If elk weren’t meant to be eaten, they wouldn’t be so delicious.
i youtubed a whippoorwill and while it is a nice birdsong, it does not sound like whip poor will at all
I guessing it doesn’t translate well.
Try the metric version ?
ok i youtubed Barred Owl and holly crap that can be terrifying at night
We have a mating pair in our area. I love them, they’re hilarious creatures.
A friend revealed he had a fear of owls when we were all sitting around a fire one night listening to one hoot in the background. He was surprised that none of us shared his owl-phobia.
if you fear owls think of then naked
https://theawesomedaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/owl-without-feathers-feat-1-620×350.jpg
Good thing I wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight…
It looks like a servant of one of the Old Ones.
There’s hardly any meat on that thing.
The meaty birds don’t fly so well.
Indeed
IT’S COMING RIGHT AT US!!!!!
*bang bang bang*
I will read your book, Animal!
I’m sitting at my desk laughing my ass off thinking about you hitting those trees!
Great stuff!
That primal, animal panic is something else. This story brought that back to me.
“up a steep hill and across a meadow belonging to the Girl Scouts of America”
I had to double check this wasn’t an OMWC story.
A couple of years ago a coopers hawk buzzed me by a few feet. I heard and felt the whoosh of its wings. There’s not a lot that will make me drop everything and get in a fighting stance like Bruce Lee but that did it.
The meadow is a metaphor.
Tres Sr. has his house in a densely wooded area. One afternoon, while sitting on his deck, a Coopers hawk buzzed through lookin’ for a meal. It was pretty astounding to see something that large maneuver through the trees. With speed.
Also true facts about owls
https://youtu.be/XeFxdkaFzRA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8el_P4yvfc
https://hotair.com/archives/ed-morrissey/2019/07/08/feds-guess-found-epsteins-manhattan-mansion/
The opening line says it all:
“Come on, man. No one could be this stupid, right? Right?”
Still have to believe he is going to end up with a case of acute lead poisoning. Too many high profile passengers on the lolita express.
If he gets greased while he’s in jail, that would be astounding.
Naturally, the DemOp Media is foregrounding one comment made about him by Trump. Still, this will be way too juicy as it unfolds to not dominate some cycles. Here’s hoping he kept meticulous records of the other high-n-mighties who dipped into his supply, and he burns a whole bunch of them on his way down.
Something at the forefront of my mind… several years ago, Trump said that Bill Clinton was a nice guy who was going to have future troubles over Epstein….
I think this prosecution has been in the offing for some time.
And is also going to mission kill the NY AG office….
This could be epic. The prosecution is recommending no bail, so they seem to be serious.
Here’s hoping he cuts a deal in exchange for testimony naming others who were using his stable of underage hookers.
That’s what this looks like to me; I’m hearing that teenagers were invited to his place and were paid; I’m not hearing anyone was forced.
He is living example of the stupidity of arrogance. I mean, if you just hafta to keep your trove of naughty pics of underage girls, do you keep it in New York, in the jurisdication that is most punitive about that kind of thing? Or at your palatial estate in France, where apparently they don’t really give a crap.
I’ve heard people alluding to, uh, darker stuff going on at Underage Whore Island. So, we’ll see if it’s just some pics and payments, or they turn up some dead kids or actual slaves or something.
I think he was under the impression that he would not be bothered and was free and clear to do as he pleased.
Will be interesting to see if he names some names.
As I understand it, incredibly, his earlier deal was to plead only to state charges, so he is not immune to federal charges for the same stuff. Placing me in a state of cognitive dissonance over my opposition to the dual sovereign loophole to double jeopardy. I wonder if the immunity given to some of his co-conspirators as part of his earlier deal would apply to federal prosecution. I’m . . . unclear on why the feds would have investigated him, and then let him cut a state deal.
But no deal with anybody would apply to acts not disclosed, etc. for his first deal, and certainly not to acts committed since then.
If the child porn allegations are true. Would it essentially be a new criminal offense as he continued to have those images even if they were part of the state charges deal? Doesn’t seem like you would get to “keep those” even after a completed criminal case.
IANAL but I think you’re right. Kiddie porn would be a new charge, and it’s automatically (I think) a Federal case. Even without the sex trafficking, the kiddie porn alone could lock him up for the rest of his life (he’s 66 and I’m guessing he wouldn’t last more than a decade or so inside).
He took kids on flights in and out of the country, it’s a federal case. If the Feds passed on it originally, (and they did), there is a very particular reason they did so and that will be the most interesting part of all of this.
I’m assuming it has something to do with “reasonable prosecutors”.
As I understand it, Mueller brought the investigation to DC rather than leave it in Florida. Mukasey, a non-entity brought in by W, was AG when the deal was cut. And, of course, Acosta was the Florida USA who waved the deal through.
There are definitely questions that need answering about how this was handled the first time.
It is also interesting that apparently this indictment was based on an investigation by the Public Corruption unit of the SDNY. I wonder if they backed into this while investigating something else crooked he was involved in. If so, what was that something else?
I’m going to guess that the SDNY is working full-time to take down Trump and this fell out.
“Oh man, you mean we have to actually go after this pedophile! I wanna keep digging through DRUMPF’s associates!! Gosh darn it!”
Speaking of which, Cuomo just signed a bill authorizing NY to give Trump’s state tax returns to Congress, which borders on
being unconstitutional bill of attainder (its not technically punishing Trump, so its probably not a bill of attainder).
It requires a “legislative purpose”, so I would expect Trump to go to court to block it.
I’m going to laugh heartily if he has a picture of Bill’s cigar.
Then I’m going to puke.
He has the foods on a lot of powerful and dangerous people. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he commits “suicide” before the trial.
In addition to having the foods on them he also has the goods on them.
It’s not they caught him cheating in a marathon or something.
I love that you started an owl gang fight. Great story!
my funny owl story is one that I still rib my husband over. A long while back we were in the backyard of a friend’s house, at a cookout type thing. And MrAthena and his good pal are sitting in the deck chairs, staring at the roof of the house a couple over. They debate for TEN MINUTES about why an owl is sitting there, so still. “Is it sick, you think?” “it’s daylight” “it’s getting near sunset though” “maybe it sees a squirrel, and it’s hunting” (yeah, they’d been drinking beer most of the afternoon)
This is a fake owl that’s been on that roof for YEARS. There is no other animal, except two drunk dudes, who would believe this thing was alive. So so funny.
So i cant use a fake owl to keep the pigeons away from my house?
Only if they’re drunk
RE: America’s Distaff Woke Commieball Team.
I shan’t provide any additional links here since there have been a number of them already, but I’ll add my own commentary. To the players: congrats on winning, good for you. Yes, you have won the WC 4 times whereas the men have won 0 times. You claim it’s unfair that you get paid less than the men in spite of your relative world dominance. Fair would mean that you get paid the same percentage of total revenue that the men do. From what I’ve seen, you actually get paid a higher percentage than the men, so if anything, the system is slanted in your favor.
Be that as it may, an individual or group earns as much money as it does based on the relative supply and demand of the product being sold. Your product does not command nearly the demand of the men’s product; something like 95% less. If you have a AA baseball team that never loses and destroys every team it faces by 10 runs, it’s still going to generate far less revenue than the worst team in the Majors. How much they win or how hard they work is utterly irrelevant. If you want more money, find ways to grow the revenue of women’s soccer. Frankly, given the general popularity of most women’s sports and the endorsement deals you’re going to get, you should probably be grateful you’re getting paid as much as you are. Until you figure that out, you come off as ungrateful, economically illiterate, whiny and stupid.
If you want more money, find ways to grow the revenue of women’s soccer.
And the exact last thing they should be doing is by going woke and alienating half of the American viewing public (probably more if you consider the correlations). Let’s be honest here. The opportunity for expanding their market probably isn’t with woke progressives. I’m willing to guess that just about every woke progressive who was possibly going to follow women’s soccer was already doing so. Because “FUTBALL!” and because “WOMYN!”. Pushing the woke progressive line wasn’t going to get them a single additional customer. And they could have kept your opinions to themselves and not a single person would have not watched you who otherwise would have. But, going woke loudly and publicly probably, they effectively broadcast a giant “Screw You!” to an outsized proportion of the people who haven’t been watching them. And I’m not even talking die-hard conservatives. That marginal person on the fence who might have tuned in or gone to a game now sees you as just another faction of the woke mob. And that marginal person has a million other alternatives to spend his entertainment dollar on.
I love these stories, Animal. Please keep them coming.
And let us know when the book comes out.
If you still have the knack of owl calls, you can use it to shoot crows.
During the day, owl hoots will bring in a mob of crows asap.
Pfft. Shoot crows? That is what West Nile virus carrying mosquitos are for… I am not sure the crow numbers around here have recovered in the last decade.
Our cat has me trained to open the bedroom window whenever she scratches on the screen (usually just after I drift off or about 20 minute before my alarm). Last Wednesday, I woke up to several crows making a loud ruckus in the back yard. Seconds later, the cat is frantically clawing on the screen. Let me in! Let me in!
The crows were out for murder.
So you had a murder of crows after your cat?
Reminds me of one of my favorite clean jokes:
What do you call a crow on a wire?
Attempted murder.
“What do you call a crow on a wire?”
My ex on the telephone?
Looks like Cy wins today.
I was attacked by about half a dozen crows five or six years ago. They got me down twice, tore up the back of my head and one hand pretty bad. I throw rocks at the fuckers and sometimes buy a few boxes of chocolate ex-lax and put it out in the alley for them. It either kills them or teaches them a lesson as they are gone for the rest of the summer. I learned the ex-lax trick from an old aunt on the farm that swore by it.
New Disney live Disney show:
https://youtu.be/b8OmxL5OvGc
Classy
Once again Animal shows that he is a top-shelf writer. Excellent stuff Animal.
We have those same birds down here and yes, the sounds of their calls fills me with nostalgia and fond memories.
Cool story, bro. Really.
Great story!