I’m Clark. Sitting on the wire is just my job. I’m really a feather fancier. You’d be surprised how many of us FCs there are. The C is for connoisseur, not collector. We meet on a Thursday afternoon in the conker tree, except on third Thursdays because of the Woodpecker Lodge — the mess they leave! We have go to the willow by the lake, which sounds nice but isn’t really. The perches are terrible, and you get a wind off the lake. Yes, I’ve got famous feathers. It’s the first question everyone asks. Probably the most famous is a Skye Ratt tail feather. It looks like ordinary pigeon. It’s an investment, that’s all. Real FCs care about the interesting and the rare, not some jumped up scavenger with a prosthetic beak. There’s a five-legged sandpiper that lives over on the toxic beach. All the barbules of his flight feathers have double hooks. That’s interesting. A celebrity collector wouldn’t know that. You should come to our club open day next week. We want to really ‘wow’ the community with the excitement of feather fancying, so Reg Thomas will be giving a talk on his nearly exhaustive collection of sparrow chin fluff. I think if today’s chicks saw how much fun it is to spend a day searching the undergrowth for that special feather, there wouldn’t be so much — what do they call it? ‘Swooping and pooping’.
“That Is Correct. Balls. Soaked With Sweat. Lying On The Floor In The Fetal Position Under A Pile Of Cushions From The Couch. Quivering, Whimpering, Groaning, I Say, In Anticipation Of The Release Of My Book. Beware, Unbeliever! Be On Your Guard. Or You May Be Taken Unawares From Behind By The Mighty Power Of The Rough Sketch.”—Me, clarifying my last post.