Saturday, March 27, 2010
puddle, kaarch, hissing
The Cockney king and queen, covered in pearl buttons, soak in a puddle.
Ahead of me, one of our local crows flies towards The Grove. He sits on the barred, metal gate at the entrance and claims possession of the park, with a loud "kaarch". Next he flies on to the grass and struts up and down. "Kaarch, " he goes. "Kaarch". A great tit meanwhile issues its high pitched two-tone call from the top of a silver birch. "Doo dah. Doo dah". A strange duet. Kaarch. Kaarch," goes the crow, thrusting his head forward every time he calls as though he is trying to bring something up. "Kaarch. Kaarch."
A young man passes me. A wire proceeds from his ear where an earpiece resides. He seems to be hissing like the sound of air escaping from a tyre.