Tag Archives: black eyed meese

A plump, hearty stocking

Now that spade up Sunday is behind us, many of you will be cultivating black eyed meese ahead of your festive preparations. If you missed the traditional gathering day, there’s still plenty of time to go rooting about under hedgerows and anywhere else dank that hasn’t entirely frozen over. You may end up with smaller meese, but you may still consider it worth the effort!

You may be tempted to feed them bones, gristle or even worms – there’s always someone who feels the urge to try a wider diet than is recommended. There are reasons for the recommended feeding of meese. On the correct diet, meese remain biddable and cooperative. Stray from this advice and the behaviour of your meese will become unpredictable at best.

Now is also an excellent time to start thinking about the stockings you will use over the festive period. The git moths will no doubt have had a nibble on any stocking you have tried to store from last year. While we make less of a tradition of stocking repair Sunday than we do spade up Sunday, you know what you have to do. Patch those holes! And if it turns out that your festive stockings are now more hole than fabric, you may have time to source or make a new pair.

Anyone who doesn’t have solid, hole-free stockings can of course expect to have terrible things happen over the festive period. If your black eyed meese tumble from the carelessly left holes, nothing will go well, and there’s also the issue of it being a really terrible omen. 

Obviously we all want the reassurance of good omens from our seasonal stockings, so I further remind you not to let git moths lay eggs in them. Do not put spoons in your stockings and leave them unattended. Do not allow anyone who has consumed night potato vodka to handle your stockings, or to breathe on them. No matter what Reverend Davies says, do not be persuaded to take any of them to any of his festive sermons, this never goes well.

And may your meese bless you with abundance and charm, and may their odours be pleasing. A reminder that an uncanny smell of vomit is not always a bad omen and can be the result of someone having tried to throw up discretely. You know who you are.

Fatal flora for Sarah Louise Ephemery

By Frampton Jones

It was always likely that Sarah Louise Ephemery would be killed by some hungry inhabitant of the island. Being one of the few people who moved towards our non-human denizens rather than away from them has always put her at risk. I greatly admired her ability to reveal the true lives of things in rapidly taken images that, when put one after another, evidenced the motion. Objects that turned out to have legs. Trees that were not trees. Faces that were not imagined. We spent many happy hours comparing notes and photographs and I shall miss her greatly.

It is a sad irony then, that her death came about as a consequence of having eaten the wildlife, rather than being eaten by it. Sarah Louise Ephemery is the second victim of The Crow’s latest food incident.

Her brother, Jack Ephemery told me: “We try really hard, but when food is in short supply and something comes in you’ve never seen before, sometimes you just have to guess. Mostly we guess right. Sarah has been eating my dishes for years and I’ve not done her an injury before. Well, nothing she couldn’t get over within a week. I feel awful about this. I always do when someone dies after eating here, but, what can we do?”

It is a fair point. Who amongst us has never been hungry enough to take their chances cooking black eyed meese? Who hasn’t bought some troubling sea creature from a fisherman and wondered if it was a good idea? Who has not lost a loved one to a bad decision about what to put in the stew?

The official medical advice from Doc Willoughby is, ‘Steep everything in alcohol. Serve it with alcohol. It cleans the insides and keeps you safe and is why I am such a fine and healthy specimen of a man.’ My own method has been to boil everything, and then boil it again just to be on the safe side, and be ready with a large stick in case anything tries to get in the saucepan during the process.

There will be a wake for Sarah at The Crow tomorrow. Jack assures me there will be no experimental recipes whatsoever.