How The Magpies Ruined Easter
In Ontario, where I was bred and raised, we had Seagulls. I lived in a city that bordered Lake Ontario. There were a lot of scenic look outs, a lot of nice summer restaurants where you could go for a basket of fries and a walk along the beach. And there were A LOT of seagulls. Their shit would coat park benches, historical monuments and walkways. It was nasty. I remember hearing that if you wrapped an antacid pill in a piece of bread and fed it to a seagull it would make thier stomachs explode, and cut down on some of the shit. There is a place in Hamilton Ontario where the seagulls hang out, breed and create a visually stunning display of themselves just by the sheer numbers. However, the patch of earth they thrive on is bordered by water on one side and a highway on the other. There is an obscene amount of dead seagulls laying on that patch of highway. Bodies falttened and one wing stuck up in the air as a sort of morbid reminder of a last chance to fly away. I have been trained in the school of thought that if a bird is stupid enough to be killed by a car, well, survival of the fittest, and the dumb birds die.
I thought (briefly) when I moved to Alberta that I may infact miss the sight and familiar cry of the Gull, after all, as rancid as their toilet habits are, they're not a fugly bird. They might even be cute, some more than others, where colouring comes into play. The greyish ones just look dirty all the time, but a nice solid white Gull pearched on a rock with the water as a backdrop, well, it's an east coast photographers wet dream. Then, I make the big move, pack 2 suitcases and head to Alberta for love. My memories of the Seagull fade off in the distance as the airplane brings me closer to a new life. All was bright and shiny and wonderful. I moved in, got unpacked and started my new job (okay, my old job transferred with new faces). One morning when the alarm awoke me, to alert that it was time to start my day, i greeted the sun, newly rising, with a smile, and felt excited at the pospect of going to work and selling boots to men who complain that I took too long to ask if they needed help. Ahem....(fuckers) Anyway, I got showered, threw on 14 layers of clothing and headed out into the crisp Calgarian morning. I walk down a nice, long hill each morning to get to work, and the Rocky Mountains always provide me with some visually stunning scenery to take my mind off of the fact that I hate my fucking job.
I mean, check this shit out man, it's beautiful. Okay, so it's not the exact route I take when I am walking to work in the morning, but at least it gives you some idea as to the scenery alright!?! So, this particular morning it is cold, I am bundled up and walking at a pace that is going to ensure I am a bit early for work, and that i keep warm as I am going. I round the first bend and begin to cross at the crosswalk (which doesn't have lights to warn drivers that a pedestrian is crossing the street, you just kind of bolt out into the road and hope for the best, I'm surprised more people don't get smoked by cars in this city). A group of birds that I had never seen before cath my eye. There were about 10 of them, and it looked, at first, as if they were dancing. Or at least involved in some kind of friendly game that they each seemed to be enjoying. They were sort of grouped into two smaller gatherings, I chuckled and expected one of them to squack out which bird they were calling over in the animal version of Red Rover. I was in a good mood, I smiled at the wildlife, and felt unusally trusting and welcomming of my winged friends who were in my path. I got a few steps closer, one of them raised it's head and stared at me with the blackest eyes I have ever seen. My nipples got hard, they always do when I am really cold or creeped out. You should have seen the way this thing looked at me. I was like "It's okay little birdy, I don't want to play, I am just on my way to work." But when it lifted it's head it gave way to a view that made me gasp. These 'Magpies' were not playing a game. They were eating. Their meal of choice was a jackrabbit that obviously needed the warning lights on the crosswalk, but sadly was taken from the world because Calgary doesn't want to spend money to make sure we can all safely cross city streets. The two distinct groups of magpies were because the jackrabbit had been torn in two by, no doubt, some fucking SUV with tires the height of wagon wheels. It's fur and flesh traced a gruesome path that connected each larger mass of the one time whole creature. Here's a picture of a Magpie so you can feed them antacids.
Then I got angry and charged, kicking and yelling my best bird scaring words and noises. They all flew, and perched in trees above my head. Like they were used to that sort of treatment, and knew that I wasn't here solely to interrupt their meal, and that I had somewhere to go, and when I bored of this loud human dance/attack that i was currently involved in, i would go on my way. They were right. After dry heaving at the sight of an easter icon gone terribly wrong, I gave a few more dirty looks back to the magpies (no I will not capitalize their name) and headed on down the hill. Maybe I just didn't pay enough attention, but, i cannot ever remember seeing a bird eating road kill. Not even eating, ripping the flesh from the frozen bones of a road-murdered animal. AND, not just any animal, but tearing the flesh off of Peter Fucking Cottontail. Any bird who would do that, obviously cannot be trusted. After all, look at them, they're like a crow in a business suit, slightly polished up, but still ugly. I cannot forget that morning, either for the memory of 'Peter' or at the sight of these lousy little winged rats eating his frozen body. No Seagull ever gave me dirty looks or ruined little Johnny's dreams of the easter bunny bringing the chocolate on time. Magpies, you cannot be trusted.
I thought (briefly) when I moved to Alberta that I may infact miss the sight and familiar cry of the Gull, after all, as rancid as their toilet habits are, they're not a fugly bird. They might even be cute, some more than others, where colouring comes into play. The greyish ones just look dirty all the time, but a nice solid white Gull pearched on a rock with the water as a backdrop, well, it's an east coast photographers wet dream. Then, I make the big move, pack 2 suitcases and head to Alberta for love. My memories of the Seagull fade off in the distance as the airplane brings me closer to a new life. All was bright and shiny and wonderful. I moved in, got unpacked and started my new job (okay, my old job transferred with new faces). One morning when the alarm awoke me, to alert that it was time to start my day, i greeted the sun, newly rising, with a smile, and felt excited at the pospect of going to work and selling boots to men who complain that I took too long to ask if they needed help. Ahem....(fuckers) Anyway, I got showered, threw on 14 layers of clothing and headed out into the crisp Calgarian morning. I walk down a nice, long hill each morning to get to work, and the Rocky Mountains always provide me with some visually stunning scenery to take my mind off of the fact that I hate my fucking job.
I mean, check this shit out man, it's beautiful. Okay, so it's not the exact route I take when I am walking to work in the morning, but at least it gives you some idea as to the scenery alright!?! So, this particular morning it is cold, I am bundled up and walking at a pace that is going to ensure I am a bit early for work, and that i keep warm as I am going. I round the first bend and begin to cross at the crosswalk (which doesn't have lights to warn drivers that a pedestrian is crossing the street, you just kind of bolt out into the road and hope for the best, I'm surprised more people don't get smoked by cars in this city). A group of birds that I had never seen before cath my eye. There were about 10 of them, and it looked, at first, as if they were dancing. Or at least involved in some kind of friendly game that they each seemed to be enjoying. They were sort of grouped into two smaller gatherings, I chuckled and expected one of them to squack out which bird they were calling over in the animal version of Red Rover. I was in a good mood, I smiled at the wildlife, and felt unusally trusting and welcomming of my winged friends who were in my path. I got a few steps closer, one of them raised it's head and stared at me with the blackest eyes I have ever seen. My nipples got hard, they always do when I am really cold or creeped out. You should have seen the way this thing looked at me. I was like "It's okay little birdy, I don't want to play, I am just on my way to work." But when it lifted it's head it gave way to a view that made me gasp. These 'Magpies' were not playing a game. They were eating. Their meal of choice was a jackrabbit that obviously needed the warning lights on the crosswalk, but sadly was taken from the world because Calgary doesn't want to spend money to make sure we can all safely cross city streets. The two distinct groups of magpies were because the jackrabbit had been torn in two by, no doubt, some fucking SUV with tires the height of wagon wheels. It's fur and flesh traced a gruesome path that connected each larger mass of the one time whole creature. Here's a picture of a Magpie so you can feed them antacids.
Then I got angry and charged, kicking and yelling my best bird scaring words and noises. They all flew, and perched in trees above my head. Like they were used to that sort of treatment, and knew that I wasn't here solely to interrupt their meal, and that I had somewhere to go, and when I bored of this loud human dance/attack that i was currently involved in, i would go on my way. They were right. After dry heaving at the sight of an easter icon gone terribly wrong, I gave a few more dirty looks back to the magpies (no I will not capitalize their name) and headed on down the hill. Maybe I just didn't pay enough attention, but, i cannot ever remember seeing a bird eating road kill. Not even eating, ripping the flesh from the frozen bones of a road-murdered animal. AND, not just any animal, but tearing the flesh off of Peter Fucking Cottontail. Any bird who would do that, obviously cannot be trusted. After all, look at them, they're like a crow in a business suit, slightly polished up, but still ugly. I cannot forget that morning, either for the memory of 'Peter' or at the sight of these lousy little winged rats eating his frozen body. No Seagull ever gave me dirty looks or ruined little Johnny's dreams of the easter bunny bringing the chocolate on time. Magpies, you cannot be trusted.
posted by WllDance4Mussy | 10:31 AM
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