By wingpig

he did it his way

The old, weak dead ones who die on their perches which occasionally fall off to lie beneath North Bridge are simple enough. Those with wings outstretched and bloodied beaks have probably flown into windows. The more tattered bodies have probably been those who left it just a fraction too late to get out of the way of a car but the wings-furled blood-free unbroken corpses are more of a mystery. Maybe it was just hit very gently by a car. I saw a blackbird fall out of a tree in Peebles so it's quite possible that it fell off the scaffolding at the south-east end of the Grassmarket, clonking its little pigeony head on the way. Anyway, after a brief moment to study it I left it to perturb the tourists, put the drunken oaves off their chips and feed the evening seagulls. It seems slightly appropriate to post this given all the cat posts earlier this evening. Maybe it was one of them.

Until I passed it I was probably going to post a bin bag. Maybe another day.

Also expiring today was the third series of Lost. At least it was a nice twisty one. Roll on September but in the interim Welcome Back Thursday Evening.

Tomorrow I shall be mostly attempting to not read the internet as preparation for my new life at a desk where people can see my monitor. As I don't want to start spending half the summer's evenings reading the internet (at least when I still have to do so indoors) I shall probably have to read and comment a bit less. Only a bit though.

Sign in or get an account to comment.