Forget Covid. We’ve got bird flew. Yes, you read correctly. The dreaded poogeons are continuing to torment us with their aerial bombardment of the property. It is a daily amusement (hmm) to unreel the hose and squirt away their handiwork and it is daily because if left, the stuff sets like concrete. Rather caustic concrete that eats into whatever it lands on, I hasten to add.
But I have a plan. A rather cunning plan, if I say so myself. It’s all about subterfuge and counter terrorism and relies on no one informing the poogeons of my intent so I trust I can rely on your discretion. I’m planning to erect a flagpole – well, that is what it will look like – but in fact it will be a bird-eating cannon that will fire birdshot vertically when the miscreants approach from any direction. As reported earlier, my efforts in grounding the flying nuisances have all come to naught so it is time for drastic action. I will, of course, fly a flag to make it look like the real thing.
There was a moment of careful optimism last week when a native harrier was seen chasing the diving, darting menaces and I really began to hope it would chase the blighters away but they are simply too fleet of wing for the larger predator. But clearly a hawk is the thing to scare them as they were fairly scampering across the sky in an effort to evade the pursuing beast. Perhaps a flag with a picture of a hawk on it might do the trick.
Anyway, life is settling back to something like normal with little expeditions leading to larger and longer forays. We’ve been to get firewood, I’ve expressed myself volubly after crushing a finger with a wood splitter, we’ve chased rats out of the farm bach, the daily biking outings continue and we’ve managed some polite and restrained visiting. It amazes me how quickly we have got into the habit of dispensing with social niceties like handshakes and hugs and the acceptance of the masses of the new order of things. I’m firmly of the opinion that if we are careful and use a lot of common sense we should be able to muddle through the dregs of this thing.
Tomorrow we set forth on the longest expedition to date, a journey of two and a half hours to Westport where we expect to find our beach house still high and dry and out of the reach of the sea. Some thoughtful person has whacked down the worst of the jungle that was once the lawn so it should simply be a matter of employing the lawnmower to subdue the rest. There are some minor roofing repairs to be done but I anticipate a rest by the sea for the good of our collective health. It’s always good to catch up with family and friends and it’s been a long time.
If anyone wants the job of hosing the deck at our place for a few days, applications are now being received.