Six starlings bicker at the back

I HAVE lived here in Mill Street now for over two years. There’s a family of starlings at the back, two adults and four chicks; starlings making such a song and dance.  Starlings are the thugs of my back garden, although the doves are just great big bullies. No hot water here today, EON can’t help. Just as well it is mild. I will have a cold shower tomorrow and a cold shave but no hot tongue and cold shoulder… Woodpecker visiting regularly…♦

3 responses to “Six starlings bicker at the back

  1. Cold shower’s, even with an array of solar panels bristling on your roof and being plugged into EON, go figure?

    Still, theres no substitute for a good old fashioned fireplace, and a back-boiler to heat up the water; mind you, electric’s not bad either, if the wirings up to snuff and it works…

    There’s no bullying in the garden when a Falcon takes to a Dragon’s wings…

    [img]http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/53/Skull_and_crossbones.svg/200px-Skull_and_crossbones.svg.png[/img]

    “My father compounded with my mother under the Dragons taile, and my nativity was under Ursa Maior.” (King Lear, Act I, Scene 2)

  2. hi summer here in maine. no boat this year no tuna or mako. observers on all herring trawlers now. no vps but getting there, have a monster web root now – big data using wiki data, trying masshups, best of breed open source subdomain showroom is being expanded to ‘not necessarily’ turnkey vms…friends mobile ad thing is going great guns, ssales, smb market, saas, and market driven aff indexes with transparent financials could rue the day. pc hw seemss to be near stasis, al least there is mobile, 802.22 will never see the light of day just like wimax….I suppose the higgs boson is auto-nobel but i am still holding out for a garage built quantum computer to pop up out of the ether. perhaps, shorely!
    .

  3. Me own Underachievement of Arms is ablazoned thusly:
    Embattled chevronwise of ore and vert,
    three woodpeckers countercharged and
    pecked it all away at Fess point checky.
    So lay me on a wreath with no supporters
    between two grassy hillocks proper
    as a toasted Bass Ale is spent
    on a bottle of chips
    floating in Hell and high water.

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