Wednesday, November 04, 2009

a murder of crows

a murder of crows
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry
There were about eleventy million crows at Richmond Hill this morning around 7:15 or so. I like crows for the most part but I was also permanently scarred by watching The Birds on TV when I was 11 or thereabouts so the constant cawing and swooping and taking up of the entire top of the forest was a mixed blessing. I harbor no illusions that my dogs would be any good whatsoever in the face of a sustained crow attack; besides, they would probably set it off by chasing them out of the parking lot in the first place. Dogs, I have noticed, enjoy a lot of completely futile endeavors, like chasing crows and barking at squirrels. Hint to all dogs: it is way easier to catch a squirrel that you haven't barked at yet and running into a flock of birds is a damn good way to get yourself shat on. But who am I to talk? The dogs feel the same way about all the time I spend sitting in the big chair (the really comfy chair they want to sleep on, at that) constantly turning over pages of paper. And then I get upset, too, when they try to help by chewing up those pesky paper objects.

I have managed to walk the dogs every morning so far this week since I like colder weather - it chases off most of the joggers - and I like being able to see. It was particularly easy this morning, because the gas company minions arrived at 7:00 with large yellow machinery. The guy who seemed to be in charge had a white ponytail and intricate blue tattoos all the way down his neck. He was very friendly and I understood very little of what he said. "We're just putting in the dpiojerlsnjfi," he said cheerfully. "Then the other guys will aoijwrfekm with the soinfaieonffewion in about two weeks or maybe longer, depends on the weather and the poiajoiewrm."
"Great!" I said, smiling back and looking a little mournfully at what used to be my lawn. (Surprisingly enough, there was some damn good dirt down there.) "Do you need me to be here?"
"Oh no," he said, "We'll just fix the woirjerl to the wpoiremr and you'll be all set."
So I should have gas in a month. I think. Or maybe this was some kind of random yard digging up heavy equipment crew of performance artists: you just never can tell.

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