a platoon of crows
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a platoon of crows
The Richmond River is poisoned with rank freshwater, drums of fertiliser, spilt diesel, sewerage, mud and town runoff … the waves are breaking in rancid water, the beaches littered with timber and dead fish, a couple of jewfish the size of an overweight man, slowly deflating, their distended stomachs almost ready to burst.
Silver bream, mullet, catfish, small sharks, tailor, flathead, trevally, blackfish, toadfish all white and ballooning and covered with spikes looking like something you could hang off a Christmas tree.
Everything stinks.
Seagulls too used to fresh to bother picking apart the days-old carcasses, sand crabs almost too wary to spot as they disappear into their holes holding gobbets of decomposed fish in their claws and further down the beach a walking platoon of black crows comes your way. Slowly. Stopping and stooping here and there before walking closer, unafraid, sleek, well-fed, confident.
They only take the eyeballs. And there’s hundreds of dead fish without them today.
Like oysters, Sightless. Liquid. Viscous. Putrid.
Pluck.
A banquet.
Silver bream, mullet, catfish, small sharks, tailor, flathead, trevally, blackfish, toadfish all white and ballooning and covered with spikes looking like something you could hang off a Christmas tree.
Everything stinks.
Seagulls too used to fresh to bother picking apart the days-old carcasses, sand crabs almost too wary to spot as they disappear into their holes holding gobbets of decomposed fish in their claws and further down the beach a walking platoon of black crows comes your way. Slowly. Stopping and stooping here and there before walking closer, unafraid, sleek, well-fed, confident.
They only take the eyeballs. And there’s hundreds of dead fish without them today.
Like oysters, Sightless. Liquid. Viscous. Putrid.
Pluck.
A banquet.
Re: a platoon of crows
Thats one hell of a tourist brochure !
The moving finger writes and having writ moves on ... now all thy piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel even half a line ... nor all thy tears wash out a single word of it.
Re: a platoon of crows
Not as juicy as Lennox Head. Byron’s a tragedy and Mullumbimby a tough choice, Avalon needs help and the back of Bangalow has gone nuts.
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Re: a platoon of crows
Decomposing carcasses in front of expensive beach front dwellings.
Reminds me of finding a dead seal on the beach at Rincon.
Put your big boy pants on
I mean, tastebuds? WGAF?
I mean, tastebuds? WGAF?
Re: a platoon of crows
Not really
Last edited by bobjs on Thu Mar 24, 2022 9:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: a platoon of crows
A group of crows is called a Murder of Crows.
Put your big boy pants on
I mean, tastebuds? WGAF?
I mean, tastebuds? WGAF?
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- That's Not Believable
- Posts: 69315
- Joined: Mon Apr 25, 2005 8:21 am
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Re: a platoon of crows
You were going so well too bobjs
Put your big boy pants on
I mean, tastebuds? WGAF?
I mean, tastebuds? WGAF?
Re: a platoon of crows
I’m watching a bloke carving off a chunk of 4 day old dead fish before putting it on his hook and casting out … thinking he’ll need acid to wash the stink off his hands tonight.
Re: a platoon of crows
Sounds like murder.
Re: a platoon of crows
Speaking of stink, a humpback whale washed up on the deserted island just south of here coupla days ago.
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Re: a platoon of crows
It's gunna take a while this time Larry.
I want Nightclub Dwight dead in his grave I want the nice-nice up in blazes
Re: a platoon of crows
I hope he finds a Wilson.
Re: a platoon of crows
Larry wrote: ↑Sat Mar 19, 2022 10:50 amThe Richmond River is poisoned with rank freshwater, drums of fertiliser, spilt diesel, sewerage, mud and town runoff … the waves are breaking in rancid water, the beaches littered with timber and dead fish, a couple of jewfish the size of an overweight man, slowly deflating, their distended stomachs almost ready to burst.
Silver bream, mullet, catfish, small sharks, tailor, flathead, trevally, blackfish, toadfish all white and ballooning and covered with spikes looking like something you could hang off a Christmas tree.
Everything stinks.
Seagulls too used to fresh to bother picking apart the days-old carcasses, sand crabs almost too wary to spot as they disappear into their holes holding gobbets of decomposed fish in their claws and further down the beach a walking platoon of black crows comes your way. Slowly. Stopping and stooping here and there before walking closer, unafraid, sleek, well-fed, confident.
They only take the eyeballs. And there’s hundreds of dead fish without them today.
Like oysters, Sightless. Liquid. Viscous. Putrid.
Pluck.
A banquet.
opening title sequence for Mourning The Earth
Re: a platoon of crows
….. and there, by the shoreline and almost overcome by the incoming tide a corroboree frog, alive, waiting to be picked up and settled by the freshwater showers at the northern end.
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