An English In Kentucky


















Saturday October 11th 2014  Tim Candler


   Something of a discussion between Barred Owls down in Robina Wood yesterday evening. It seemed friendly. An apolitical discourse on the nature of being and the importance of at least appearing to be wise. A joke here, a joke there and probably they were sharing cocktail recipes because they paid no attention whatsoever to what some of us have identified as a creature undiscovered by the community of naturalists. I am beginning to believe this creature must be some kind of Griffin. It has feet, it can pad around, it can fly, it can call like one of the larger, more frustrated whales, and there are two of them. Neither sounds like a vegetarian.

    Then in the four o'clock hour, which is that time of day we writers of pulp hop from out bed to commune with the perfect sentence, there were Coyote. Some huge disagreement in their clan down in Junk Gully. And my god what noisy and undignified neighbors they make. And you could kind of tell their quarrel was completely unnecessary, it was just their chance for everyone to say their bit, make their point, impress the girlfriend or the boyfriend, and at the same time remind the rest of the world that despite the bounty on their tails there are thousands of them out there just waiting to snap up the odd small pet or doddering old person collecting his mail.

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