In France I have my two lovely pigeons Colin (the escaped racing pigeon) and his wild French lover Coline. Yes – he gave up his life of international travel and his batchelor pad in Scunthorpe UK to devote himself to love in France.
And now I have Bongo, the performing pigeon. Like many quirky old Doris types I have a bird feeder – meant for sweet little birdies. Bongo has been studying it for months. The only thing that distracts him are lady pigeons before whom he poses and warbles before attempting a poorly planned sexual assault. At last he has cracked it. I am going to model my future on this bird. Just a couple more bounces and, if I can stretch just a little further, I’m gonna suck seed.
Oooh – this blog just gets worse and worse. OK- I know what you really wanted. Blah blah buy my books blah blah.
Emma Thinx: Do panic! You won’t fly if you can’t flap.
Bird Brains
Who the heck ever thought of the term “bird brain”? As a serious intellectual and major literary figure I often find myself humbled by the simple birds in my garden. I have a wonderful crow called “Hook-beak” who lives in a nearby oak tree rookery. I’ve been watching him for the past 5 years so I know he’s at least that old. His favourite little trick to is pick up dry bread and bring it to my bird bath to soften it.
Emma Undercover 