Last week (Thursday 18/09/08) I visited High Park with my aunt. She was not in any mood to chase birds about, and spent the morning and early afternoon busking with her banjo and high-hat, shrieking what sounded like Woody Guthrie tunes at the north end of the park on her refurbished 1920's barstool.
I'm happy (and very relieved) to report that she was not arrested during her marathon performance, and raked in over forty dollars.
When I retrieved her at about 1 p.m., I was recognized and approached by a local who carried a lifeless, medium-sized brown bird in her hand. It looked a bit "thrushy" from a distance, but as she turned to hand me the little creature, I commented to no one in particular that thrushes aren't known for their long green legs and metatarsals (and sundry other morphological differences) ... the lady told me she picked this deceased immature sora from the middle of Indian Road at about noon that day.
Odd, but I'm accustomed to the unusual.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by norman »
"If John Denver wasn\'t already dead, I guess I\'d have to kill him."
