In a weak moment I told the chickens that gods used to use them to help figure
out what was going on.
“It was called, ‘taking the auspices.’ An augur would look at birds and figure
out which day something important should happen.”
Mimo was intrigued, “What kinds of birds did they look at?”
“Well there were the Oscines, singing birds, and the Alites, who gave messages
by the way they flew.”
Cheddar, “What, no place for chickens?’
“On the contrary, chickens had their own special role, ‘ex tripudiis,’ meaning
something like, ‘how they dance while feeding.’”
Pecorino, “I wouldn’t exactly call it dancing. Dancing is more Ed Balls.”
I was going to ask how she knew about what is happening on British television,
but my thought was interrupted by Rocky, who pecked my calf.
“Oi,” she began, “how did it work?”
“What?”
“How did they read the feeding?”
“The chickens were kept by the Pullarius (keeper of the auspice chickens).
When the girls' services were required it was his job to choose the bread or
cake and throw it for them. Came the cry, ‘release the chickens,’ and out
they’d run.”
Mimo, “Bit of a race there, I should think. First to the cake gets the most.”
“Racing would be auspicious. So would plenty of crumb scattering. What was
bad was when the chickens either didn’t exit the cage or refused to eat.”
Appenzeller was incredulous, “Refuse to eat cake?”
Pecorino, “Or bread?”
“I know, I know. It probably didn’t happen often, but when it did there was a
wailing and a gnashing of teeth. Also if the chickens stood around flapping
their wings or, worse yet, flew away.”
Mimo, “I should take that as a sign the food was inedible. We’re not stupid
you know.”
“I do know that. My guess is that people who wanted to avoid a certain outcome
would from time to time tamper with the food. What would cause you to distain
bread?”
They thought long and hard about this. Finally Cheddar said, “If it was made
of stone.”
I explained that the reason I was thinking about all this is that I’d tried a
bit of augury myself.
Pecorino, “I thought you were watching to see if we needed more.”
“Actually,” I said, “I started with a rainbow.”
“Whaaaaat?”
“God’s gone bonkers.”
“I know it’s a stretch,” I explained, “but some people regard a rainbow as
auspicious, so when one appeared as we set off for crabbing I mentioned it to
B.”
Rocky, “And was it auspicious?”
“Well we caught a lot of crab, and both motors started first time, but the
weather was awful.”
Cheddar, “Is there such a thing as ‘semi-auspicious’?”
“I’ve wondered that. Take another example: lots of people thought that Clinton
was going to win the election because the stock market was rising and the sun
was shining. There seemed to be confidence in the air.”
Cheddar nodded, “Oh yes, confidence. I’ve tasted that.”
Pecorino, “Very nice on a piece of bread, confidence. Adds extra flavor.”
Rocky, “And did Clinton win?”
“Well no and yes. She lost the electoral college but won the popular vote.
She’s not going to be president.”
Appenzeller, “Probably for the best. I should think that anyone who loses a
whole college is pretty careless with smaller things.”
Pecorino, “So who won?”
“Trump.”
They went into a dance, “Trump, Trump, Trump, the boys are marching, cheer up
comrades they will come, and beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air
again, of the freeland in our own beloved home.”
Suspicious or auspicious? You be the judge.
I was leafing through a book of photos taken by a French doctor during the
First World War and came across one of a man in a kilt and tin hat. He was
holding a child’s hand. It’s hard to tell the Black Watch from the Argyll and
Sutherland Highlanders; to my eye the kilts are almost identical. I found
myself not just looking carefully at the face; I realized I was trying to
re-arrange the features, I was trying to make this man my grandfather, wearing
an Argyll kilt. We have no photo of him in uniform. I don’t know quite why
but I'd very much like to see one.
Hamish has three concerns when off leash: squirrels, the ball, where best to
leave poop. When exhausted the other day he bounded into the ivy, chasing the
ball. He stopped to look up at a tree where squirrels often chatter. Then he
spun as if he wanted to go poo. Then he couldn’t remember which of the three
desires he’d entered the ivy with. It was like watching a video GIF:
poo…squirrel…ball…poo…? In the end he lost the ball, didn’t go poo, couldn’t
locate a squirrel, so he lay down to get his bearings, pant, wonder about the
meaning of it all. Later in the week I took him to a sibling reunion; five out
of the litter showed up in a local park. Hamish’s first action was to bound
into the melee; his second was to come up behind me and pee on my calf. Never
done anything like that before. I imagine that since he was the last one to
come home with an owner he may have been claiming me. Dog logic, “This one’s
mine.” I was not amused.
Epic tennis match yesterday evening. New partner, one who lives or dies by his
serve. When he was whacking it in, I had a grand time at the net. But he
started the match with three double faults and a pretty weak fourth point. We
were 0-4 before we could blink. We staged a comeback but lost the first set in
a tiebreak. We went up a break in the second set. They fought back. At the
two hour mark we won the second set 6-4. The rules say you then play a ten
point tiebreak for the whole match. We went ahead, they fought back, they went
ahead, we won 10-7. Two hours and maybe fifteen minutes. We certainly knew
we’d been in a match but here’s the thought that went with the tiredness: it
was all played without cheating, grunting, shouting or dubious line calls. On
the next court there was a guy who had somehow missed preschool lessons in
“using your indoor voice.” I think we may all be hearing more from him quite
soon.
David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
http://www.mirror.co.uk/tv/tv-news/ed-balls-gangnam-style-strictly-9249285 ;
<http://www.mirror.co.uk/tv/tv-news/ed-balls-gangnam-style-strictly-9249285>
