The horrors of dogs, unleashed by their moronic owners, the worst of which is certainly the beagle. Have you heard his deathful cry while you tried your mightiest at snitching through the April grassways? Impossible when strafed continuously by shrill and tuneless deathbarks!
At daybreak on the s. car you were desperate with hope that ________ would become your new Springtime spot, but now with this beagle startling the yellow-rumped warblers which you had fieldcraft enough to never spook and scatter, you wish to explode upon the simpering scoundrel who thinks it perfectly reasonable to own an unbalanced beast in the city, almost certainly claustered in a too-small and fetid apartment and unable to go anything but bonkers when unloosed into this waterside park, an accidental bird sanctuary (and yes and yes the cruelties of uncaring municipalities on whom natural history and proper living will forever be lost – DOGS MUST BE DISALLOWED!)
Always of consolation is the ritual cataloguing and so you prepare your avian inventory: the new fox sparrows, phoebes paired already and twisting on their buckthorn branches by the water, flickers, constant kinglets, and of course the YRWs whose deliriant abundance would under easier circumstances cause you to caper.
NOTA BENE:
I was a little bit angry in April but I’m feeling much better now. There is no need to fear calamitous outburst from y.t., nor should the fine folks write me off as non compos mentis, no indeed! And RE dogs: so boon a companion to many a denizen! Semper fidelis and that’s just the beginning! Is it not impossible to feel anything but affection for a dog with his head out the window of a quickly-moving pickup truck, ears flapping, relishing the breeze? Show me the monster who would impugn the importance of a working dog! And what’s so terrific about yellow-rumped warblers anyhow? They’re drab and they’re vimless, usually nervous, they sing a boring song, and never ever will they smother you with kisses and love?
