I know this is not written funny and Covid is no laughing matter, but I couldn't help smiling at the war you are waging on Corvids. I love crows and rooks and they live near us and raid the bird feeders from time to time... my wife, like you, hates them; I don't know why, but I love them... actually when I think about it, when I was 10 or 11 I used to walk to school (in Colchester)... it was a happy school time because I was in love with my teacher. The walk to school took me through a rookery and every day was the same and the raucous clammer of the crows was to me like a crowd cheering and throwing their black hats in the air... beyond the rookery was school and my lovely teacher... oh and books... school had books when my home did not.
Thanks Douglas. I replied earlier but the technical gremlins gobbled it up! I'm glad you like rooks and associate them with a happy memory 😊. It reminds me that things tend not to be of themselves stressors but the mind makes them so; and so one can choose to think differently about the things that wreck our head!
I hope you're feeling better soon, Joe. As for the rooks, I actually find myself missing them since my move to London last July. Carrion crows are much commoner here. Strangely, I enjoy the caws of rooks and their apparently joyful tumbling in the wind. I accept, though, that you can have too much of a good thing. I hope you and the rooks soon find a resolution satisfactory to both parties.
Thanks Patrick. I took another test this morning and still positive 😌. I'm on day 5 (since my first test) but I might have had it in the body a few days before that, so perhaps tomorrow I might be clear.
As for the rooks, every so often their squawks fall silent, and I can hear again the blackbird and song thrush. I have concluded that they're not nesting in Hotel California after all, however frequently they land in that large oak tree.
So quiet were they at one point last night 🌙, I thought they had abandoned their new colony. But my hopes were dashed when I was awoken by their torturous cacophony at dawn, a close second to nails on a blackboard.
This morning I was woken at 6 by the sparrows in the privet hedge below the bedroom window. Their sounds may be less objectionable than those of rooks, but they only know one word: cheep.
I know this is not written funny and Covid is no laughing matter, but I couldn't help smiling at the war you are waging on Corvids. I love crows and rooks and they live near us and raid the bird feeders from time to time... my wife, like you, hates them; I don't know why, but I love them... actually when I think about it, when I was 10 or 11 I used to walk to school (in Colchester)... it was a happy school time because I was in love with my teacher. The walk to school took me through a rookery and every day was the same and the raucous clammer of the crows was to me like a crowd cheering and throwing their black hats in the air... beyond the rookery was school and my lovely teacher... oh and books... school had books when my home did not.
Thanks Douglas. I replied earlier but the technical gremlins gobbled it up! I'm glad you like rooks and associate them with a happy memory 😊. It reminds me that things tend not to be of themselves stressors but the mind makes them so; and so one can choose to think differently about the things that wreck our head!
I hope you're feeling better soon, Joe. As for the rooks, I actually find myself missing them since my move to London last July. Carrion crows are much commoner here. Strangely, I enjoy the caws of rooks and their apparently joyful tumbling in the wind. I accept, though, that you can have too much of a good thing. I hope you and the rooks soon find a resolution satisfactory to both parties.
Thanks Patrick. I took another test this morning and still positive 😌. I'm on day 5 (since my first test) but I might have had it in the body a few days before that, so perhaps tomorrow I might be clear.
As for the rooks, every so often their squawks fall silent, and I can hear again the blackbird and song thrush. I have concluded that they're not nesting in Hotel California after all, however frequently they land in that large oak tree.
So quiet were they at one point last night 🌙, I thought they had abandoned their new colony. But my hopes were dashed when I was awoken by their torturous cacophony at dawn, a close second to nails on a blackboard.
This morning I was woken at 6 by the sparrows in the privet hedge below the bedroom window. Their sounds may be less objectionable than those of rooks, but they only know one word: cheep.