An English In Kentucky


















Thursday May 30th 2013    Tim Candler


     It's a sad fact of life that Tree Swallow do not fledge if they are being stared at.  So my advice is to put out of your mind the whole idea of spending a hot afternoon watching a small hole.  Don't concern yourself  with the possibility of sadness, don't let worry mount your imagination with stark images of failure, and go find something more useful with which to pass time. And do not let adult Tree Swallow tempt you with their play acting that something like fledging is about to happen, because Tree Swallows are cocky and deceitful little bastards. Oh, they'll fly around and call and give off every symptom of a parental desire to share flight with off-spring.  And don't allow yourself to ever say "Maybe if I wait three more minutes I'll see the little fellows make their first flight," because Tree Swallow can hear those kind of thoughts, and they call  loudly to their nest, "Not yet."

    So you come to your senses and you go inside, because your head aches, and you can hardly see because despite the sun glasses your own mental apparatus is recording spots and flashes, and you think maybe this is what Rapture will be like.  And your peripheral vision has been so reduced by blue sky you fall over the  bloody de-humidifier, damaging an already damaged shin and sending a splash of water across the floor, which requires instant clean up otherwise wood eating mold starts to grow and there's the risk of electric shook, which would at least be a quick way to end it all. Then, despite the risk of heat exposure and the possibility of precipitating yet one more near death experience you go outside for a cigarette, and there they all are, on the electric line.  And it might well be a relief to see everybody safe and whole, but far better all round if they at least pretended not to be laughing at you.


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