Poor Lucky. There may be a tear on my pillow tonight.
About 16 years ago I was involved in escape and evasion training. Groups were supplied with a very cute white rabbit (bought in from a breeder rather than caught), and a chicken. Methods of quick dispatch of both creatures were taught and then the groups were left to cut up and cook their dinners. The group that had a butcher in their group had it easy. One group wasn’t so lucky if you excuse the pun. Their squeamishness meant that they didn’t bother to remove the insides from the chicken before putting it on the fire. They probably didn’t cook it for long enough. Whether it was because of the former or the latter, they found that it wasn’t long before things were escaping and evading them. In the end all 8 of them ending up being medivac’d to hospital.
Fortunately they were all lucky enough to make it out OK, but for them the war was over.
I on the other hand was lucky from the start, having been selected for a role in the hunter/search team I spent the two weeks eating takeaways.
there are few things to rival chicken food poisoning…yoish
cool, well made, like alot!:) a bit sad as well 🙁
it actually was quicker to make than a usual blog is to write *switches media*
We are a sentimental bunch of idiots aren’t we. For my part I used matchsticks on a quail one of whose feet pointed forwards whilst the other resolutely pointed 180 degrees in the other direction. Bear in mind that a quail chick is not much bigger than a large bumblebee & you’ll understand the delicate nature of the orthopaedic endeavours. Whether it was the splints or nature just sorting itself out the little chap now seems none the worse.
There is a line from Jake the Peg which goes something like – “then they shouted at me put your best foot forward” We shouted at the chick, but whenever he tried this he fell over. I was going to call him Becks but we don’t go in for this sentimental naming nonsense.
it is ridiculous is it not. bunch of softies the lot of us. I must come and visit your quails, ablefooted be they or otherwise
Eggcellent!
cheers
Joff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!
Tchoff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!
Joff-tchoff-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff!
Hatee-hatee-hatee ho
Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding
What does the fox say…
arf
Poor Lucky. There may be a tear on my pillow tonight.
About 16 years ago I was involved in escape and evasion training. Groups were supplied with a very cute white rabbit (bought in from a breeder rather than caught), and a chicken. Methods of quick dispatch of both creatures were taught and then the groups were left to cut up and cook their dinners. The group that had a butcher in their group had it easy. One group wasn’t so lucky if you excuse the pun. Their squeamishness meant that they didn’t bother to remove the insides from the chicken before putting it on the fire. They probably didn’t cook it for long enough. Whether it was because of the former or the latter, they found that it wasn’t long before things were escaping and evading them. In the end all 8 of them ending up being medivac’d to hospital.
Fortunately they were all lucky enough to make it out OK, but for them the war was over.
I on the other hand was lucky from the start, having been selected for a role in the hunter/search team I spent the two weeks eating takeaways.
there are few things to rival chicken food poisoning…yoish
cool, well made, like alot!:) a bit sad as well 🙁
it actually was quicker to make than a usual blog is to write *switches media*
We are a sentimental bunch of idiots aren’t we. For my part I used matchsticks on a quail one of whose feet pointed forwards whilst the other resolutely pointed 180 degrees in the other direction. Bear in mind that a quail chick is not much bigger than a large bumblebee & you’ll understand the delicate nature of the orthopaedic endeavours. Whether it was the splints or nature just sorting itself out the little chap now seems none the worse.
There is a line from Jake the Peg which goes something like – “then they shouted at me put your best foot forward” We shouted at the chick, but whenever he tried this he fell over. I was going to call him Becks but we don’t go in for this sentimental naming nonsense.
it is ridiculous is it not. bunch of softies the lot of us. I must come and visit your quails, ablefooted be they or otherwise
Mark Diacono you are a very bad man.
none taken