[lit-ideas] Sunday Twofer
- From: David Ritchie <profdritchie@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sun, 7 Jul 2013 11:09:20 -0700
I must mention our man Murray. Yesterday I asked an Englishman whether Murray
was British, or merely a Scot. "English," he said, "we do love our curly
Scots." Yer, right. And so to chickens. Chicken noises come out as long
syllables which, more often than not, sound like "Whaaaaaaat?" When they're
really exited chickens add a cluck. For lunch yesterday I gave them salad,
some weeds and some lettuce we'd kept too long. They were fine with this until
they found there was also leftover toast. "Whaaaaaat? [This stuff's magic.]
Mooooooooore." I'm not usually in charge of feeding them but I sometimes take
a turn: six cups from the storage can in the coop. That at least used to be
the instruction. Last time I did this they all went, "Whaaaaaaat?" I told
them, firmly, giving them the eye, not to be fussy. "Eat up, girls. There's
plenty would be happy with that." When my daughter came home, she explained
that the storage can now contains ground oyster shells, which are supposed to
be added, a pinch at a time, to the real food. Oh cluck. Six cups of
"Whaaaaaat?"
A wee toast: to Henry Fielding,
the man who put the pistol in
epistolatory
David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
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