Our gander wanted a bit of company, so he waddled up to the patio. He knows he's not allowed, but he's moulting and said he'd give me some feathers if I let him come and sit with us. I said OK, but no pooping on my patio. So he preened himself, pulled out a couple of loose feathers, and put them down ready for me to pick up. Then he pooped on them.
Most problems on earth are caused by humans worrying about little pieces of green paper. Paraphrasing Douglas Adams
I don't care if it takes a compass, pick-axe and night vision goggles to find her. Paraphrasing Steve Martin in L.A. Story
Cob is sand, clay and sometimes straw. This tiny ad is made of cob: