Pigeon rescue
I saved the life of a pigeon today. I hate pigeons! They’re feathered rats! All right, this was a wood pigeon, but they’re a plague too, like locusts or frogs or boils or your drinking water turning to blood! And they eat the growing tips off your garden plants! Wretched wood pigeons are why I have to net my little magnolia, and I didn’t catch on soon enough and I think it’s going to grow up strange! Pigeons! Bah!
It’s raining. It’s been raining steadily and hard a l l d a y l o n g. That’s ALL day. That is, among other things, four sprints with hellhounds. My raincoat isn’t much more waterproof than fine hellhound fur and I get very cranky not being able to see through my glasses, not to mention the greater risk this puts all other pedestrians at of sudden hellhound assaults,* and half an hour at a time is about our limit. Usually even downpours have pauses in which you can, if you’re paying attention, get hellhounds hurtled during. Not today. I’ve been through three pairs of jeans and three pairs of All Stars**, and it would be four except I get tired of changing clothes and the last time I just sat over the electric fire and steamed. It’s also cold enough to want to fish your electric fire out from under the sofa and turn it on. Hellhounds have been through about six large towels and, for hellhounds, are a bit grumpy. But they get over it quickly: a good riot around Peter’s sitting room–where there’s almost enough room for rioting, unlike at the cottage–scuffling up all the carpets and knocking the sofa sideways, will cheer them up again.
The one good thing about walking around town in filthy weather–and I find walking around town pretty boring generally, although I do a lot of it–is that the number of vicious-off-lead-uncontrolled-dog-equipped morons is much lower than in fine weather. A sort of tarnished-plate lining to a very wet cloud. But the storm drains are starting to back up so there are more and more new, stampeding rivers to find your way around, and I swear even the tarmac is beginning to dissolve into mud.
The usual river is running very high and where there’s a sort of mini Ponte Vecchio I imagine the people are listening to the water scrabbling at their floors. We haven’t been up to the stretch of footpath that goes past the tree farm because I’m reasonably sure it’s impassable, and besides, there are travellers camped out that way and they have a Very Scary Very Large Bull Mastiff patrolling the perimeter.*** But this morning as we were approaching the bend in the river where we would turn back toward downtown and home and dry again, as we were rapidly reaching saturation point, I saw something strangely fluffy floating in the river.
I’m right in thinking that non-water-birds’ feathers can get waterlogged and the bird drown, aren’t I? Even if I didn’t have a vague back-of-mind memory to this effect, this bird was floating way too low: you just look at it and think ‘it’s going to go under in a minute’. I stopped† to consider the situation, and so saw this bird sort of half-paddle and half-flounce its way to the edge, which is probably less than two inches above the water surface right now, but they’re a vertical not quite two inches, because the public footpath along the river at this point is reinforced by palings, if you call them palings when all but the top less than two inches of them are underwater. And it couldn’t climb out. It tried and fell back into the water again.
So I went back a little way and wrapped hellhound leads around a lamppost and looked for something to use as a scoop. I’m willing to risk getting bitten or clawed–at least by something as small as a pigeon–but I don’t particularly want river water in any open wounds.†† Some thoughtful litterer had left a large Styrofoam container just off the path, the sort of thing you carry your curry takeaway in. The rain had washed it out nicely. So I took it back to the bird which I had, yes, already identified as a pigeon and was grinding my teeth as I knelt down beside it. But you can’t just let something drown. Ugh. I could guess how exhausted it was by the fact that it made no effort whatsoever to elude either me or the jaws of the Styrofoam. I ended up using my hands anyway as even a pigeon (at least a waterlogged pigeon) is rather heavier than your average serving of takeaway curry. Feathers are so soft. You know this anyway from feather pillows, but it’s a lot different somehow when a live wing is sweeping across the back of your hand.†††
I got it out, and it staggered across the path and collapsed. I wondered if I should meddle with it any further, and decided not.‡ It wasn’t going to be a big day for footpath usage, there didn’t look to be anything particular wrong with it besides sogginess, and it had tucked itself under some overhanging shrubbery where it might conceivably dry out. I went back for hellhounds‡‡ and the pigeon and I exchanged long looks as we courbetted past. It wasn’t there in the afternoon when we went past the same spot again, nor was there any little explosion of feathers suggesting the interference of a passing cat or dog or fox. I want of course to believe it dried out and flew away. But if it comes after my magnolia next year I’m going to have pigeon pie for supper.
* * *
* What I don’t understand is how they choose. They’ll walk pleasantly past six people on a loose lead . . . and the seventh they’ll be all over, or they will be if my thumb hasn’t hit the brake fast enough. It has nothing visible to do with the person; they’re just as likely to go for someone scowling fiercely in a wildlife-should-not-be-allowed-on-public-ways way as for someone who is going all weak in the knees about how beautiful they are. One of the drawbacks of their harnesses^ is that the straps sit so much farther back on their shoulders that their necks are entirely untrammelled and slender graceful hellhound necks become remarkably long and flexy when you’re passing someone interesting on a narrow pavement.
^ Darkness once managed to yank out of his collar too so I think his escapetry has more to do with his duck and dive technique than with the tackle he’s snaking out of.
** And I can fit only two pairs of jeans and two pairs of All Stars on the Aga rail at a time.
*** Sometimes I get along very well with travellers: we like each other’s sighthounds. I like bull mastiffs too, but I don’t want to mess with one. Or, more to the point, have it mess with me.
† The veins popping out on my arms as I hung onto frustrated hellhounds. Oh, Mom, we never have any fun!
†† I’ve also just had it drummed into me, somewhere along the line, that you do not use bare human hands on wildlife, even aside from the possibility it might hurt you. I don’t know where the order came from. But I’ve been attempting to rescue unlucky or misguided critters as long as I remember, so maybe it came from some basic guide to the help and succour of local fauna current forty years ago.
††† Lice! Fleas! Unknown Dreadful Avian Parasites!
‡ The same drumming declares Thou Shalt Meddle as Little as Possible.
‡‡ Did I tell you about not quite catching the lamb a few months ago? It had got on the wrong side of the fence, and it and its mum were having separation hysterics. I tied the hellhounds to one end of the fenceline and then crept past the lamb, thinking that it would prefer me to the hellhounds. I did finally manage to grab it, but you’re always afraid of hurting what you’re theoretically helping, lambs, like most baby things that grow fast, have extraordinary amounts of loose skin, and it managed to writhe away from me again. Whereupon I stomped off muttering to tell the local farmer. If I’d just caught the thing it would have taken a lot less time.
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[raises glass in celebration of mutual wet weather]
‡‡ Did I tell you about not quite catching the lamb a few months ago?
NO.
>thinking that it would prefer me to the hellhounds.
HAHAHAHAHAHA
> but you’re always afraid of hurting what you’re theoretically helping
Lambs are TOUGH. When in doubt grab an appendage.
Smart lambs know how to get back to mummy. The dumb ones…..
Currently lambs everywhere here. And for some reason the ewes insist on lambing in the filthy weather. Not on the nice sunny day. Haven’t been for my paddock ramble yet. Don’t want to disturb the snuggled lambs.
I don’t have anything LIKE your experience, but we have LOTS of sheep around here and I’ve yet to see a lamb find its way *back* through the fence without some help, even if that help was merely aimed herding, once it’s wandered away from where it came through. I couldn’t find the damn hole in the fence this time. And it DID prefer me to the hellhounds, I just didn’t grab it firmly enough. Next time I’ll go more emphatically for a leg.
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Re being smart: It’s all in the breed…. ;)
My bad – the fences are probably different over there. My fences are such that newborn/little lambs can wriggle back to mummy-dearest.
::headdesk:: What was I thinking?! Of course *hell*hounds will look more scary than ordinary dogs. And there was two.
::mutter mutter::
Well, they do stand on their hind legs and make interesting noises. :)
I notice walking through or past fields of the things that sheep reactions vary a LOT. The fuzzy white faces are the most chilled out, followed by the smooth white faces, and the black faces are the most suspicious. Wiht LOTS of variation: there are MILLIONS of sheep breeds . . .
>Wiht LOTS of variation: there are MILLIONS of sheep breeds . . .
::giggles::
I have 4 different breeds here at the moment. And they all have different personalities. :)
Which four? Anything I might have heard of in England?
1. Merino
2. Romney
3. Poll Dorset (derived from the Dorset Horn)
4. Drysdale (derived from the Romney)
The Dorset Horn and Romney are what we term “British Breeds”. Drysdales were developed in NZ from Romneys.
Breed research: http://www.sheep101.info/breeds.html
Thank you! I’ve just bookmarked the sheep info! I’m already confused though since I think the Oz/NZ view is enough different that what little I know is getting blown off. HOWEVER. So, what are yours’ personalities?
Here’s something that I wrote out for lj:
http://b-twin-1.livejournal.com/22712.html
I think it tells the story reasonably well. ;) ::giggles::
LOL! It does indeed! And I hope that’s a good likeness of you in the upper left! :)
You’re a bird hero! They’ll sing of your good deeds for at least a week.
Any animal in peril makes me sad and nervous. Fuzzy mammals get all my mothering instincts.
Yes. I also kind of get all Nature Girlish. Right, with hellhounds tied to a lamppost by their nylon leads, and I’m wearing a (leaking) Goretex raincoat. Never mind.
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Well you are speaking to someone who doesn’t like to get dirty, firmly believes in the necessity of computers (you don’t WANT to see my handwriting), and whose ferrets live pampered lives with kibble and trash for toys. (The trash is their choice. I tried to buy them real toys.)
It’s the animals and their needing looooove. Not our raincoats. :D
Pigeons are important predators in the cycle of nature. They keep the magnolia population from getting out of hand, developing sentience, and enslaving the earth.
Feathers are so soft.
I am always amazed when I hold a bird (I’ve rescued a few myself) at both how soft feathers are, and how light and delicate birds are in general. Those hollow bones… it’s just incredible. I’m always terrified I’ll hurt them by accident..
Pigeons are important predators in the cycle of nature. They keep the magnolia population from getting out of hand, developing sentience, and enslaving the earth.
********* Prepare to Die.
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********* Prepare to Die.
LOL!! Right, I’ve made my peace with the universe. But when you’re chained and subservient at the root of the Magnolia Overlords, don’t come crying to me.
Nah. The Magnolia Overlords will usher in a new era of serenity and peace with a pleasant subtle smell of lemons. :) And all heads of state will be BANISHED to a very small asteroid.
There will be a “magnolia-free” enclave here though. Too much wind for magnolia survival ……
Heads of State will still be sent to the asteroid though.
Pigeons are an evil, a moral vice and an intellectual vice. They are a flying abomination, polluting our skies.
And furthermore, they pooped on my shirt when I was in Venice. Pigeon pies, now . . . that might be different . . .
All except the one I rescued. :) Yes. Inconsistency R Us.
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I have to agree with the sweet damosel. Every day I have to clean pigeon shit from our back balcony. The paint on the railings has blistered away in spots, corroded by said poop. The smell arising from the balcony on the fifth floor opposite, where our neighbours have given up and now have a small guano factory rising half a foot over their balcony, is nauseating. I am thinking about following Tom Lehrer’s example and YOU ARE RESCUING THEM???? You deserve to have your magnolia eaten.
Eff off, lady, you wouldn’t walk past something DROWNING either.
If it were a rat without wings, would you have rescued it?
Interesting. I’m not sure. The thing is that I know rats BITE. And I’d rather not get bitten. If it looked drowned enough . . . probably. Although I tend to cheer if I see a dead drowned one in a ditch somewhere. I never claimed to be rational. . . .
I rest my case.
You might also remember that my undesirable rescue project was a WOOD pigeon. Not a city pigeon crapping on your balcony.
First off, rats don’t drown. They swim better than we do, so it’s a moot question. But second–come on, now, Susan! Pigeons are what they are; it’s not their fault that what they are happens to be annoying to humans. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do your damndest to get them off your porch–plaster owls, loud noises, spiky bits–but hardly right to just let one drown in front of you…
Our solution here in recent years involves Peregrine Falcons. City gov’t set up several families with nest boxes in our downtown, and the pigeon population has dropped. Not disappeared, but it’s sure better. At the zoo, the issue was hundreds of mallard ducks; standard procedure was to shoo the females off the nests, then replace their eggs with dummy ones. They’d return to sit on the fake eggs for weeks before finally giving up. Always seemed a bit mean, to me, but it beat being up to our knees in baby ducks.
Well, they do drown occasionally, because you see them wet and dead occasionally, but it’s true I wouldn’t expect to see one struggling to climb out of a river. And it’s also true I would find it VERY DIFFICULT to let almost anything drown. Maybe a dentist. . . .
YES. There’s an little tiny growing actual business thing of Hire a Hawk over here. It’s BRILLIANT.
And then there was the day that the guy who ran the daily Birds of Prey demonstration for our zoo (at 11, 1:30 and 3:00 most weekdays) was just launching into his shpiel about the Harris hawk, and the Harris hawk was ready and waiting at the back of the amphitheatre, and suddenly a female mallard waddled incautiously in through the entryway. The hawk, in mid-flight toward Mark’s fist, made a sharp 90 degree turn and swiftly educated an amphitheatre full of kids on the realities of the predator-prey relationship. I hear it was spectacular.
I figure there will be a certain percentage of kids who will be similarly traumatized by the intrusion of pigeon blood and feathers in their urban comfort zone. But it seems a small price to pay for falcons downtown. :)
LOL! There’s a terrific Birds of Prey place at Andover which is not impossibly far from here where the peregrine was let go and was positively *zooming* overhead and the fellow presenting said ‘that’s the skull and crossbones of the bird world’.
Meanwhile, mallards, *feh.* They are SO DUMB. We have acres of the dimwits on our river which you and your hellhounds have to WADE THROUGH, the ducks, not the river (although Darkness has fallen in once or twice). I am SO tempted to let the hellhounds go ahead and CATCH one occasionally . . . but I’d probably be set on by all the idiots with their small children and their bags of cheap bread. Arrgh.
So it’s OK to bring in hawks and falcons to eat them, because THIS IS NATURE’S WAY but drowning isn’t natural? As I say, I haven’t actually gone out of my way – so far – to kill anything (or rather I should say anything above insect level) but if it’s dying already and it’s a pest, I wouldn’t go out of my way to save it, I’m afraid. That’s where I would go: survival of the fittest and there goes a pigeon that will not breed another generation. A bird which is not a pest I would try to save, although – I admit in fear of being labelled a cowardly miserable fraud – not with bare hands. I have friends who have caught diseases from wildlife and it ain’t pretty. Plus I am too urban for words and handling wildlife isn’t something I would easily do in any case.
:) It do take all kinds to make a world, as they say. I was a woodsy kid and have been handling and rescuing wild critters all my life. I even used to keep heavy gloves in the car trunk, just in case I needed to do a roadside evac of something bitey.
I’d rescue anything that’s in distress, frankly. That mallard wasn’t in distress for any great length of time. :) I do see a difference between the two things, philosophically, but maybe that’s just me.
RE: Darkness falling in–hilarious! The poor guy. My best friend’s whippet mix embarrassed herself a few weeks ago by sighting on a duck out in the middle of a pond covered in pond scum; she thought the surface was solid, went plunging forward… and promptly vanished, only to emerge covered in surprise and green slime moments later. I’m sure the duck was laughing.
Isn’t that supposed to be good luck? (maybe that’s just a superstition designed to make people feel better about being pooped upon…)
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“a good riot around Peter’s sitting room–where there’s almost enough room for rioting, unlike at the cottage–scuffling up all the carpets and knocking the sofa sideways”
We call that ‘rug surfing’
As to bird rescues-well done. I caught an injured juvenile great blue heron and took it to a wildlife person. They weigh absolutely nothing. It’s startling when you think about how large they look. But if you are going to fly, you must be almost weightless.
Yes, well a blue heron is a desirable bird! I’d have been totally chuffed if I’d rescued a blue heron! But yes, it is amazing how little they weigh.
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Have you ever had a bird land on your hand?? I once got a chickadee to land because my hand was full of yummy food… (and I rescue worms, so that’s far stranger than wood pigeons :)
Yup. I had my mouth all open/fingers all poised to say ‘chickadee’. Winter + snow + peanut butter = chickadee on hand.
Good for you, salvaging the pigeon. I rescue tortoises here. They want to cross roads, and I swear there are people who squash them on purpose, so I will stop when possible and either carry them across (gloves: yes) or hustle them along before some car nails them. I’ve seen other people do the same. Luckily for me, I’ve not run into any snappers.
****Darkness once managed to yank out of his collar too so I think his escapetry has more to do with his duck and dive technique than with the tackle he’s snaking out of.****
Darkness is much too clever for his own good.
Yes, he is. He caught on to the Spanish Walk in about a fortnight . . . MONTHS later Chaos is FINALLY getting it. . . .
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Nifty fact: lice are species specific. You can’t get bird lice, the birds can’t get human lice. Fleas on the other hand don’t care what species you are…
I know you can get *some* damn thing from birds, and I don’t care what its name is. :) But I’ll try to remember this to intimidate the next harmless person I have an idle conversation with. . . . :)
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“Fleas on the other hand don’t care what species you are…”
Interesting, sounds as though North American fleas may be evolving differently because in the UK fleas *are* specific to species. So, hedgepig fleas can’t live on cats, nor can human fleas (not many of those around these days anyway) and cat or dog fleas can’t live on us. Yes, one can get bitten if one is the nearest ankle around, but apparently the blood of the wrong species isn’t digestible so they give up and/or die (thank goodness).
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Ah. Now my understanding is that there are GROUPS of fleas. The rat flea can apparently digest human blood or the plague wouldn’t have been quite such a plague. I don’t remember what any of the groups are, just, I thought, there are some species jumps and some not.
I did a little more reading and it seems that most fleas can only breed if they have access to the blood of their own host species, but can take a quick snack off another species if starving.
I’ve never quite seen the *point* of fleas, in the great scheme of things. Mosquitoes – OK, horrible, but at least they’re food for a lot of other things. But does anything eat fleas I wonder?
Just wanted to let you know that famed librarian Nancy Pearl gave an enthusiastic plug for Sunshine (as a great book to take on vacation) this morning on NPR’s Morning Edition.
I cheered a bit and crossed my fingers hoping they’ll sell like hotcakes.
p.s. I’ve been praying to all the gods I can think of that my review editor will send me Chalice to review. I’d be happy to do my part to see it’s a best seller!
Right. I’ll cross my fingers too!
I hope the general public is as NPR cued-in as this blog’s readers are. :)
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This is the THIRD bird rescue story I’ve heard in the last two days. There must be something in the air. Or, rather, NOT in the air, as it were. *snerk*
You’ve just been having a dreadful couple of days, haven’t you? I am so sorry. Perhaps it will cheer you up just a bit to hear that I read “Chalice” and LOVED it? Because I did. I may send you an email through your other website later today to give you some more specific feedback (thereby allowing me to gush a bit without giving anything away), but I can say just a couple of things.
First, I really enjoyed being able to see YOU in so much of it. Not that the characters are you or anything, but that since finding this blog, I can hear bits of you all woven in and connecty and really recognize it. It’s cozy without being in the slightest bit jarring.
Secondly, I am once again amazed at your writing. Somehow you manage homey high fantasy. I don’t understand how, but I love it. You can do epic with the best of them, but it’s believable HUMAN epic so it doesn’t feel as…brassy as fantasy so often can.
My life has been a bit buzzed lately and for some reason it took my mind with it, so that instead of immediately falling in like I usually do with your books, I had to wriggle into it over the last couple of days. It took two days to get twenty pages in, which for me is absolutely unheard of (and had nothing to do with the book, mind you), but last night my mind latched onto a sentence, something *clicked* and I just fell in and finished the rest in two hours. (It would have been even less, but I realized two thirds of the way in that I would soon be done and then I’d have no more new McKinley for a very long time and I was sad. So I drew it out as much as possible).
Today I wish you sunny skies and sprawling, empty fields in which to ramble (or to pelt, since there will be hellhounds about).
Thank you very much! :) Homey epic would be one of those things I’m *aspiring* to if anyone asked me. :) Like someone said recently that I’m flannel-nightgown reading. Yes. I aspire to being the sort of book you take to bed with you. Over and over and over again (till it wears out and you have to buy ANOTHER COPY).
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I have indeed lost many, many hours of sleep reading your books over and over again. My bloodshot eyes are a true testament to your compelling storytelling! :)
In slightly related news I’m rereading the Emily series (AGAIN) after the discussion on here and remembering how very much I love it. It hasn’t been six months, so this isn’t a reminder, just a note that the best books come with a lifetime guarantee of enjoyment. Isn’t it nice that yours fall into that category?
YES. :) Thank you!
Totally love your blog. Can’t help it–I’m a novelist who loves dogs and grows roses and grew up riding horses and spends part of her time in Britain. So you see?
This morning on National Public Radio’s breakfast show Morning Edition your novel “Sunshine” was on the list of recommended Carry-on Books, i.e. Awesome Airplane Reading. And as one who crosses the Atlantic regularly, I can attest to how very important well-plotted plane reading is. (Especially in turbulence….)
Here’s a link to the web story
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91364064
Here’s a link to the audio
http://www.npr.org/templates/player/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=91364064&m=92398808
Here’s me, today going mushy over my gallica roses
http://www.margaretevansporter.blogspot.com
Maybe the pigeon you rescued will tell others of your kindness and convince them to stay away from your garden?
Ha. It’ll probably just bring its FRIENDS.
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” I saved the life of a pigeon today. I hate pigeons! They’re feathered rats! ”
I understand. I once saved a squirrel from a cattle trough–I’ve always thought of them as rats with bushy tails and good PR. We have so many, they are a menace! I especially hate it when they eat the wooden sides of my birdfeeders *snarl*.
“††† Lice! Fleas! Unknown Dreadful Avian Parasites!”
I once saved baby robins when I was a kid and wound up COVERED with mites! *shiver* Most definitely, birds shouldn’t be saved with bare hands– at least, not MY bare hands.
LOL! I’m so glad someone understands!!! And yes, squirrels ARE rats with bushy tails, and I DO NOT UNDERSTAND why they are considered cute.
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Because they’re fuzzy and do cute things with their little paws and twitch their tails. People are suckers for this. Even worse: people think RACCOONS are cute. Insane people will feed them ON PURPOSE.
LOL! Well, I admit to a weakness for raccoons. But they are spectacularly pushy and destructive too. I’d still save one if it was drowning. I once wrote an article–which One of These Days I’ll post, probably on my web site–for a magazine about killing mice, and got an outraged letter to the letters column about Nature and, speaking of little paws, their little hand-like paws etc. Good grief.
Because they’re fuzzy and do cute things with their little paws and twitch their tails. People are suckers for this. Even worse: people think RACCOONS are cute. Insane people will feed them ON PURPOSE.
Ooooh, I love squirrels and raccoons and and and!
How can you resist sneezy squirrel face? http://www.flickr.com/photos/desert-sparrow/481727651/in/set-72157600384727683/
(Actually, you should look at all this guy’s photos. He’s an amazing photographer. http://www.flickr.com/photos/desert-sparrow/ )
Hmm. I find squirrels infinitely resistable.
Raccoons are cute in the abstract and in photos and films, but as neighbors they leave a lot to be desired. Leaving aside the way they will get into trash cans or anything else they think might have tasty stuff inside, they give a really nasty bite and are a significant rabies vector. So we do nothing to encourage them and I keep the encroaching woodland well back from the fence so they can’t approach the yard unseen.
Some years ago, my bitch Alba demonstrated Natural Selection At Work and killed a very stupid teenage-size raccoon that thought it could stick its head and torso under the fence and hiss at three Great Danes without evil consequences; she grabbed it around the chest (thank God did not get bitten) and that did for it. Darwin Award for the raccoon, but I wish some other predator had been the agent because I had to deal with the corpse.
This is off topic, but I wanted you to know that NPR talked about Sunshine today. Here’s alink:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91364064
and here’s the text:
I have never been a fan of novels with vampires in them. In fact, until recently I’d never read horror fiction at all — I’ve always felt that real life is scary enough before you add the supernatural to the mix. But I’ve always loved the novels of award-winning fantasy writer Robin McKinley, and a friend whose book smarts I respected recommended McKinley’s novel Sunshine, so I (somewhat hesitantly) picked it up, started reading and found — to my surprise — that I couldn’t put it down.
Set in a world quite similar to ours in the time just after the Voodoo Wars, Rae Seddon, who’s nicknamed Sunshine, is driving home from a baking stint at her stepfather’s café when she is kidnapped by a group of vampires and locked in the ballroom of an old house.
It soon becomes clear that she’s intended to provide the main course of a meal for their starving captive, the powerful, handsome and enigmatic Constantine — who also happens to be a vampire. But Constantine, going against everything Sunshine thought she knew about vampires, resists his powerful urge to drink her blood, and the two form an uneasy alliance against their joint captors.
Just in time, Sunshine discovers that she has apparently inherited the magical talents that run through the blood of her long-absent father’s side of the family, and she contrives to set herself and Constantine free. But that’s when her troubles really begin …
Enjoy!
JM
Yes, well, see above. I’m DELIGHTED for the plug, but the ‘handsome’ really, uh, bites me. This is NOT a standard romance, you know? Never mind. All advertising is good advertising. :)
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Robin, Sunshine was talked up on NPR today, here in the states. It was a segment about great books with absorbing plots to get you through what have become increasingly horrific plane flights (are there any other kind of flights? Do I need to specify?). Anyway, though the talky talky lady got the plot wrong (she said Sunshine was kidnapped on her way home from work) she did say lots of nice things about it. She also mentioned The Thin Place, which I enjoyed. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know, you just got some widespread US advertising. Here’s the link to the story: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91364064
. . . arrrgh. My answer got eaten, I think. I said, worse is that Constantine is described as handsome, which he is NOT, I was VERY CLEAR about this, and that she ‘resists his urge to drink her blood’ which is hardly what happened. But let’s just say YAAAAAY that it’s out there getting noticed by, we hope, more people. :)
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Pigeeons have discovered my neighbor’s bird feeder and developed into a nice little flock. They coo pleasantly and grow ever more birds. There’s a peregrine falcon nest under a bridge nearby; why don’t they stop iin and do some nature balancing? I suppose the hunting is even easier downtown, but where’s their home loyalty?
I don’t suppose a trail of breadcrumbs would work. . . .
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This is off topic, but I was happy to see Sunshine mentioned in an NPR piece:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91364064&ft=1&f=1032
YAAAAAAY. My editor told me NPR had asked. (She chose the excerpt.) They meant it! Yaaay! :) Thank you!
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“I’ve also just had it drummed into me, somewhere along the line, that you do not use bare human hands on wildlife, even aside from the possibility it might hurt you. I don’t know where the order came from.”
Yes. Grass snakes, for example, are loaded with salmonella and they have a habit of evacuating bowel or stomach contents over their handlers if stressed/pissed off. So delightful. And seals – their mouths are noted for being loaded with bacteria including salmonella, so people involved with marine mammal rescue are always warned about having a very thorough wash/disinfection routine after they’ve been in contact with one. (Being married to an ecologist/biologist has its ups and downs….)
Perhaps Black bear could let us know if penguins are salmonella carriers too? :)
Oooh. An ecologist/biologist? That sounds like a RESOURCE to me. :)
Turkey vultures too. An earlier draft of DRAGONHAVEN has Jake thrown up on by a frightened turkey vulture. They’re supposed to have . . . uniquely spectacular vomit.
Marine mammals generally so I’m told.
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“Oooh. An ecologist/biologist? That sounds like a RESOURCE to me. :)”
Well, mostly, yes. I’m happy to share…:) It does mean, however, that at home one has to live with being reminded from time to time that one can’t do/have something or other in the garden because it would impact on the native ecosystem! OK, we’re organic anyway and mostly I’m keen to support the local wildlife in whatever ways are possible, but…
I wonder why turkey vultures have that distinguishing characteristic – it must be an advantage (or by-product of an advantage) to them, somehow, or it wouldn’t be like that (whatever it is – don’t feel obliged to give details, please!).
Well, if you start panting to know, I’ve got my notes somewhere. :)
You remembered right about feathers becoming waterlogged. Actually, under the right (wrong) conditions, even water birds can become waterlogged and drown. That’s partly why oil spills are so devastating on wildlife, apart from the toxicity. They gum up the feathers and suddenly, whoops, they’re neither waterproof nor able to insulate the bird anymore. Thank goodness for Dawn dishwashing soap.
Yes, I knew that about oil spills–that it interferes with the waterproofing somehow. As well as just being all-purposes-ly toxic, I would think.
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