central vermont bird flu
first and foremost: major props to miss caroline and patsy-baby for their admirable use of Google. thank you ladies, you have solved my sole qualm with the world of illegal downloading. muchos gracias.
AND now, may i present tonight's headline story:
i had just driven up my driveway and got out of the accord on my way back from cleaning the main street office, when i set my vans down next to a remarkably large, undeniably living bird. it was the size of a breadbox; if breadboxes possess sharp talons, beady eyes, and nasty beaks, and it was in a sad state. (in fact, it still is, so please excuse my passive tense. i'll get to that part in a second.) basically, it POPPED up into the air like a fly ball and rammed its head into the well-lit ceiling of our breezeway. it proceeded to ricochet back to the floor and continued to ram itself, head-first, into the bright yellow wall of my house, just to the right of the door jamb.
okay, so at this point, i was back in my car in the passenger seat in an uncomfortably tight and upright version of the fetal position, screaming. you see dear reader, this bird was BIG and brown and speckled and freaky. what would you do?
i chose to drive around my dark neighborhood, searching for a neighboring house with some warm lights on inside. i stopped at gus (the dog)'s house and used their phone to call mom and listen to her laugh at me and tell me to come back to the house and go around to the one of the other two doors. duh.
so i drove on home and came here to record my encounter with what i would like to count as the first case of the central vermont strain of THE bird flu. the bird is still standing on my porch, its blood staining the wall and ceiling where it bludgeoned itself. rather grisley, eh? and not to mention 100% true.
much love. a spine. the common sense to run like hell. jules.
AND now, may i present tonight's headline story:
i had just driven up my driveway and got out of the accord on my way back from cleaning the main street office, when i set my vans down next to a remarkably large, undeniably living bird. it was the size of a breadbox; if breadboxes possess sharp talons, beady eyes, and nasty beaks, and it was in a sad state. (in fact, it still is, so please excuse my passive tense. i'll get to that part in a second.) basically, it POPPED up into the air like a fly ball and rammed its head into the well-lit ceiling of our breezeway. it proceeded to ricochet back to the floor and continued to ram itself, head-first, into the bright yellow wall of my house, just to the right of the door jamb.
okay, so at this point, i was back in my car in the passenger seat in an uncomfortably tight and upright version of the fetal position, screaming. you see dear reader, this bird was BIG and brown and speckled and freaky. what would you do?
i chose to drive around my dark neighborhood, searching for a neighboring house with some warm lights on inside. i stopped at gus (the dog)'s house and used their phone to call mom and listen to her laugh at me and tell me to come back to the house and go around to the one of the other two doors. duh.
so i drove on home and came here to record my encounter with what i would like to count as the first case of the central vermont strain of THE bird flu. the bird is still standing on my porch, its blood staining the wall and ceiling where it bludgeoned itself. rather grisley, eh? and not to mention 100% true.
much love. a spine. the common sense to run like hell. jules.