A family of Indian Myna’s have moved into the chimney of my fireplace (these are birds, not under-age or underground workers from Bombay). If I turn it on, its going to be like a Nando’s cook-up.
It sounds like they’re sub-dividing and building a Tuscan villa, but they’re getting the grace of summer. Come winter and a plume of smoke will signal their forced removal or baked Myna casserole.
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