I'm not supposed to use the pictures from our Hong Kong trip before A receives them in a CD I'm to burn and snailmail to her, but seriously, who's bothered, right? I mean, it could be another millenia before the CD actually gets removed from its stack and even loaded into my computer. I kidding, A, really. Like, really really. The wicked-ass vacation photos aren't ready to leave my desk, though, for a simple reason. You'll find that out soon.



Anyhoos, that was my excuse - and a valid one at that - for not (yet) blogging about the HK trip. Must not spoil it for A. I am lame but loyal. And proud of it. Shing!

Tonight, I was caught up on the fascinating topic of Homing pigeons while traipsing around Internet-Land. Pigeons have, of late, been on my mind's radar. First, in the guise of pretending to be one, i.e. a pigeon, in order to appear inconspicuous. (There are also very funny actions that accompany this act of inconspicuousness.) Then, encountered in Hong Kong: roasted, as an alternative to chicken wings to be had with beer. This is a very versatile little bird-creature, I must say.

And just yesterday, I came across the subject of pigeons in M. F. K. Fisher's How To Cook A Wolf, published together with the rest of her excellent writing in the 50th Anniversary Edition of The Art of Eating. She muses,

"It is not easy to find pigeons, these days. Most of the ones you know about in the city are working for the government. [...] By far the easiest way to make a pigeon cry "Come, eat me!" is to buy it, all clean and trussed, from a merchant."



For me, there is a high possibility the romantic ideal of owning a homing pigeon stems from Hedwig and the notion of Owl Post, courtesy of J K Rowling's Potterverse. Wouldn't it be nice (cue humming) to send short, important messages scripted onto thin, lightweight paper tied to a bird's leg?

I now know how homing pigeons find their way about from point A to B. Thank you, Internet. You have been a veritable vault of information I may not immediately know what I'd have use for. But now I want to know: how I can send that bird back to the sender - will this be possible, communicating both ways via pigeon?

To A: before you cry foul about my use of the HK images, may I offer you this. Read the parts about the pigeons again. See? Not a word about Stanley!

And so, last night after knocking back a few drinks, as part of bird-mania, our topic turned to bats. M and me, we were wondering, if bats, as mammals, copulated upside-down, hanging off the rock ceiling of their cave or tree? And would their wings, two pairs, enfolded, offer the privacy of a four-poster bed of sorts?

Or were bats essentially birds; if they were, how did they lay eggs upside-down? "Oh," intoned R airily, "they excrete a kind of gel-like substance to stick the eggs onto the cave's ceiling." We were impressed. This was after a few drinks. "Then umm," I wondered aloud, "do the bat-babies fall to the ground upon hatching, according to the workings of gravity?" Poor bat-babies! Slightly smashed: us after a few drinks as well as the bat-babies.