Secretos pequenos de mi pueblo 2

Traveling out of the village the other day I hit a pigeon. Since I normally travel on narrow country roads with a domingero like concern for safety and the wildlife I suppose it was inevitable that the poor bird was not killed outright. I got out of the car prepared to finish it off. The driver behind me had also stopped and gone to the bird and it had disappeared. I assumed he had killed it and put it in the hedgerow where it belonged. I asked if he had finished it off and thanked him. He hesitated and then said that it was dead but that it was now in the boot, for the ferret. He claimed to hoover up a lot of road kill.

I related this to A at the dinner table, the story goes well with Spanish red.

She asked if the ferret man was wearing a pink shower cap with his hair sticking out through the holes! It was only when she speculated that he might have been called Skink that my confusion was resolved.

Which reminds me, we have books about direct eco-action in the swamps of Florida to give away or sell.