I've Seen Ye. Stick Around And I'll Kill Ye .....

  So, unusually, I'm in town today. I didn't mind though. Figured I'd make a bit of a day of it. Took my binoculars and figured to have a look around at the wider birdlife / nesting activities.

  I've done that, and then I thought I'd go down and check out my Gray Wag' box, under the twin arched bridge over the river in town.

  As I reached the cross roads, it suddenly struck me that I needed to draw some cash. Walk up to the ATM, then back down to the river? Or the other way round?

 Fuck it. The other way round would take me back past my local. Where I had a pint sat on the bar. It was a steaming hot day. I was already fucked from steaming up and down, doing shit. Bank first.

  I made that decision because I am god like. Had I gone to the river first. Or done Anything else a split second sooner or later than I did? Ye wouldn't be reading this. 

 Because I wouldn't have been writing it. The Matrix would have glitched. As it is; Read on ....!

  So, I've munged me up and rolled on down to the river. Strolled onto the footbridge beneath the double tunnel bridge where I have my Gray Wag Box. And sat down for a quick and comfortable examination of the situation.

  I'm delighted to report ~ for those with the least interest ~ that bird shit on a couple of rocks in the river, right by the nest box, show the GW's are definitely haunting the spot. I'm quietly confident they'll adopt that box :-)

  And, having ascertained that, I lowered my binoculars. That is to say, being right handed; My brain sent the message for my hands to lower my binoculars from my eyes.

 Somehow, my CNS produced a slightly leftward and down action, as part of the would be 'removal'. And some instinct, still within me, managed to scream a warning.

 Because, even as my hands lowered, my eyes still glimpsed. And I smacked those bin's hard back against my eyes. And I looked ~ with the focus wheel already set to perfection ~ at the big, black cat.

 That's what my brain went for. " There's a fucking great, black cat just heaved itself out of the torrent. There, in the left hand tunnel! Look at the wet, black, spiky fur on that muvva fukka!!! Wow! "

  Split second later, my real brain kicked back with: " Illogical, Captain. Cats don't emerge from fucking rivers. Pass beneath bridges ~ running deep with water ~ then slip into the water at the far end, like ye just witnessed."

 Minutes later, I'm relating this to my main man; Hugh Logan. Hugh told me this:

 " Ditch; In a life time of living here, I've heard men say: 'There could be mink on that river.' 'There must be mink on that river.' Even, 'There are mink on that river.' 

 But, I've never yet heard of Anyone who's actually Seen a mink on that river! And, for you to have seen one? In broad daylight? On a busy Saturday afternoon?!"

  Yeppers. The town has entrusted me with the duty of protecting 'our' stretch of river, while encouraging the birds. I'm taking my role extremely seriously.

 And now I've been sent a sign: " The Butcher ". I've Seen the duck slaughtering bastard! I want his arse!