Early bird
For the sixth consecutive morning,Jud was awoken by a squawking bird. If that’s a mating call,he seethed,the bird will die a virgin. The thought consoled him,but it didn’t help him return to sleep. When his rising pique overflowed,he sprang from bed and stormed outside into the dawn chill. Barefoot,clad only in undies,he scanned the trees until he saw it,heard it,high upon a silver birch. “Oi!” he yelled. The wanker didn’t so much as look his way. There’d be no reasoning with this one! Hitching his undies authoritatively,he began to climb. Words by Paul Connolly. Illustration by Jim Pavlidis.