Murder on a Thursday Afternoon

June 10, 2020 1:30pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 17 Comments

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On Wednesday!

It’s been a while since I felt whimsical, to be honest, but I’ve decided to get back in the saddle before I lose my sense of humour altogether. A creative in lockdown causes social suffocation and trying not to kill anyone takes priority. 

Having said that…

I’m starting to get more used to it and we have been given a little more freedom in the form of meeting people outside or at a distance in your very own garden.  

The thing is, I don’t think people will want to come to my garden because it’s a ghetto.

You wouldn’t think so to look at it: baskets with beautiful flowers hanging around the garden. I love a bit of a hanging basket. Even if your garden is looking a bit shabby, a hanging basket comes along like a fresh stroke of paint and wakes up the whole vista.  Might I suggest this option if you can’t be arsed to mow your lawn.

Lunch in suburbia

Anyway, there I was on a Thursday afternoon sitting at my dining table eating my lunch. If memory serves I think I was eating homemade quiche and a quinoa salad.

1: because I’m trying to be healthy and stop doing this:

and 2:  lockdown has made me a bit soft. That needs sorting out. 

Back to the point in hand which was that I was enjoying a very pleasant lunch at my table. The window was open next to me as England has had exceptionally sunny weather – the best spring on record. Naturally, we can’t go out so bring on the heatwave.  

I gazed outside, my line of sight falling on my rather lovely bird stand where I provide a wealth of nutrition for the local feathered- friends and the thieving squirrel.  

‘What a beautiful day’, I thought. 

And then…

A middle -class murder

All of a sudden and straight away in the middle of my perfect moment a sparrow-hawk of the most vicious kind swooped down into my garden, ripped a poor bird from the air and pinned it to the ground until it died. Murder in the garden on a sunny Thursday afternoon. 

Dear. God.

Horrific.

Put me right off my lunch.

And the guilt? I’ve basically made a live buffet station in my garden for birds of prey. 

Lovely. 

 

17 Comments

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Juju,

Clearly the stress level has flown off the scale as even the avian persuasion has succumb to bloody butchery! But is it any wonder? I mean think about it: BoJo the Clown is following his head master Trump into the record books! England has the second highest infection rate right behind America. Dubious distinction to be sure. But like here, even your inanimate objects are going to be stressed out. Just do me the favor of protecting your beautiful face from the eventual bloody minded, stressed out, flying, thieving murderous squirrels.

STREEEEEEEEESSSSSSS! What stress?… Heh!

I’m ready to take on murderous squirrels – bring it on! But thank you, Dean! 🙂

Just shows the ‘Special Relationship’ is still alive and well Dean, as demonstrated by the 150kish C-19 deaths (and still rising) between us!

Think of it as watching the Nature Channel on TV without having to turn on the TV. You are just the observer.

I suppose so, BW. But ewww – it’s proper nasty in real life!

Well if you had been quick enough you could have filmed it on your phone and broadcast it on Soringwatch. The beeb pay for those moments. Nature is sometimes cruel but it’s a circle of survival. Only the strong survive you should know being a Warrior Child

I did have my camera on the table from a previous meander, but, by the time I’d got over the shock of it, switched my lens over and got into position, the murderer flew off. Probably a good thing – I wouldn’t have enjoyed looking at the crime scene photos.

There are people who feed deer and elk who live near me. Mountain lions and wolves stalk their properties waiting for the food to arrive. It’s a law of unintended consequences.

This is true. I’m just fattening up the platter, LL.

Now I don’t usually remember my dreams, but a couple of years ago when you posted that Whimsey about the drone, I dreamt that I was sunbathing in your back garden (as you do) and the drone came over. You came running out of the house with a bazooka sort of anti-tank gun thing on your shoulder and shot it down. It landed right next to me and burst into flames. I think I survived. Weird or what?

Ha! This just shows that you totally trust me with your life – to serve and protect but also acknowledge that I might set fire to you in the process!

Did you dream of murderous crows last night?

Actually, this is what I need – a drone. I did have one somewhere… this would make the sparrow hawk sod off.

That’s probably true, very deep and meaningful. I think I had the same dream a few times. No dreams of murderous crows though last night I’m afraid.
I’ve heard one or two stories locally of sparrow hawks hovering over gardens showing an unhealthy interest in pets like rabbits and guinea pigs since Lockdown, so get that drone dusted off.

Don’t worry – I bet you’ll dream of this soon.

I saw it again yesterday getting something from my front lawn. I can feel a story coming on – The fat lazy Sparrow Hawk that couldn’t be arsed to hunt. My garden is a fast food outlet for feathered predators!

I shall go and look for it later. I vaguely remember it crashing into Brookfields and losing a few propellers!

can I explore inside your secret garden, mah dahlin?

in that one pic you’re holding a…a…pickle, a pickle…

the most famous lyric from the rap: “could you please move? you’re right in front of the quinoa…”

Hitchcock predicted all this years ago…

*)

Hello, my sweet*)

A secret garden should remain forever secret or it’s just a garden and they are ten a penny.

I’m holding a chilly….so close… but not that kind – this is my chilly bottle filled with gin and tonic. 🙂 *)

Love the graphics, Jules, and this business of getting soft…combined, they’re an echo, or better, more like high-pitched feedback in my reverb… My not so artfully feigned “badass” is the bird downed by the sparrow hawk… The fragility of Earth and all of us on it has caused even the most reclusive and sensitive of creatives to burst out of hiding…better to explode than implode, I suppose… So I’ve begun posting again which is WAY weird… Even my favorite tortured poet, maggiemaeijustsaythis, popped out with 5 poems after a 16-month silence… It’s all ponder-worthy…

I’m trying my hand at drawings and think I’m coming across as a 5-year-old Lowry!

I totally agree and even though things are moving forward and starting to re-open it’s not in a way I know it so I still feel trapped. I hope I get my mojo back or my bad juju!

Strange times, Miss A, strange times…

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