up at sparrow lake camp, there was a game we used to play from time to time while waiting to go in for breakfast. we'd all stand in a giant circle and hold hands. then two people would let go and one would walk around the inside of the circle, pulling us all along behind to create a giant, slowly-twisting spiral in the shape of a snail. as we went along everyone would chant,
snails, snails, come out and be fed.
first your feelers, then your heads.
it was creepy. like some sort of cult ritual. early morning fog, a couple hundred children dancing around in a circle, holding hands, chanting in low voices (apart from the one who couldn't stop giggling).
while I was out last week I drove by a stream where hundreds of ducks, pigeons, geese and swans were quacking out their winter blues.
they swarmed the car. led by a flock of a couple dozen pigeons, they came tumbling and stumbling from all directions, surrounded me, and settled down for a long winter's nap. I put the car in park and stepped on the gas. honked the horn. slammed the door a few times. got out and ran up and down. stepped on the gas, leaned on the horn, cranked the music and slammed the door all at the same time. then I gave up and waited.
I think they were hungry. possibly for manflesh.
ducks, ducks come out and be fed.
first your bumfeathers then your heads.