A Country Banquet

   Walking through the village of Faversham for the train station, I came upon a small group of oldsters huddled around a blackbird in the gutter. It had apparently flown into a shop window and now, here it was, zonked and startled, on the cobbles. An old woman said, "Oh, bless its heart, the poor love". It sat there in its stupour with its bright yellow beak agape. I continued on to the ATM machine and when I returned a man was crouching beside the stricken creature, stroking its head with his forefinger. It didn't move. The same old woman as before said, "Oh, bless!".. All of a sudden, the man shot his hand out and grabbed the wretched bird. It issued a wild squawking that continued loudly as the man carried it back inside his shop. Probably going to make a delicious pie or something for later on. Country ways, and all that.

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