Cormac Mor

IKA: Caid writes poems for Crown entrants. I wrote the following all-purpose doggerel to help (change pronouns as necessary).

There once was a fighter at Crown.
For his consort he sought great renown.
But his plans are on ice,
'Cause his bell got rung twice,
And he ended the tourney face-down.

Every time the Kingdom of Meridies refers to their (registered) Legio Ursi as the (unregistered) “Order of the Bear,” (unregistered) “Bear Legion,” or similar, Beare Herald (me, registered) will claim one (1) square foot of Meridian soil.

I'mma have a full barony by the end of the year.

When your brain reads “antiperspirant & deodorant” as “antidepressant.”

Oh, OTC *and* topical? How convenient!

Thank you, my true love. And Happy New Year to all!

[end]

I've sent them off to the dairy to work full time, and gifted each with a golden ring (for surely this is why my love gave me 40 of them). And so, for all the headaches this Yuletide episode may have brought, in the end, everyone was happy. This was truly the best gift I could have ever received.

I sent each of my neighbors, as wedding guests, off with a hen, leaving only a small handful left in my garage.

As for the maids, though I am grateful for their hard work and willingness to be flexible in their work duties, I know that this is not where they're meant to be.

...courtesy of the eggs from 30 hens and the fruit from the pear trees which now line the edges of my property. The neighbors on my street were delighted by the spectacle, and all too happy to tuck into the geese and swans (in no small part out of spite against the obnoxious creatures, no doubt).

The maids' union, 40 strong, were instrumental in preparing both the wedding and the feast, which consisted of 42 cooked geese, as many roasted swans, a gigantic pie filled with 36 blackbirds (known in some areas of England as colly birds or "calling birds"), and many tasty pear quiches...

These 30 Lords and 36 Ladies have known each other for quite some time, and today all paired off. As the happy couples kissed, 22 turtle-doves were released into the sky. Though not *quite* traditional for a wedding, the 34-piece pipe band (22 pipers and 12 drummers) played beautifully nonetheless.

These gifts, far from being designed to torment me or destroy my house, instead all work together in harmony for me to give a most wonderful gift in return. Today, on the lawn, I hosted and officiated a beautiful mass wedding.

Day 12: Over the last week and change, I have received 364 gifts from my true love, one gift for every day of the year, save one. This experience has taught me a valuable lesson, that it is far more important to give than to receive.

The dovecote and coops in the garage have been stabilized, and I think I've found a way to resolve this once and for all.

Bird count: 161
Guest count: 90 (47 dancers, 11 musicians, 32 subcontractors)
Ring count: 35
Tree count: 11

In better news, the dairy has reported back favorably on the maids' work ethic, and the house is *almost* to the point where I can have a plumber come in to fix the bathroom and kitchen. Recent rains have provided puddles to attract the 35 swans out of the house and into the back and side yards.

Don’t get me wrong, I love bagpipes, and the pipers are very talented. The 47 dancers on the lawn also clearly appreciate their music. But there’s a reason they’re considered instruments of war.

Day 11: The good news is that the neighbors have stopped complaining about the noisy geese. The bad news is that they've already filed complaints about the nonstop party on the front lawn, now with musical accompaniment.

They seem happy, and there seems to be quite a bit of chemistry among the revelers, but keeping them fed has been a challenge. There are only so many ways I can cook eggs, especially when my kitchen -- like the rest of my poor home -- is a disaster area.

This could not come at a more vital time; in addition to more birds (now up to 138), there are now 28 dancers on my lawn. Like most dances I've been to, the women far outnumber the men, and the lords seem to be more jumping around haphazardly than doing the tamer choreography of the ladies.

Day 10: The maids (who now number 24) have organized and sent a representative to discuss terms. I was able to negotiate a deal where they would help me get the house back in order, in exchange for contract work with a local dairy.

and several cars have been befouled by the flights of doves and blackbirds which have escaped the dovecote.

Bird count: 115

Guest count: 25

Useful guest count: 0

I can't say their complaints are without merit; even though the increase in feathered population has stabilized, I'm still unable to keep up with the growth. Neighbors have complained about the noise of the geese...

Day 9: More birds, more women. Half of my new guests are incredibly jovial, and appear to want nothing more than to dance in my yard. The others, however, are just as grumpy as those from yesterday. They've been discussing the abysmal state of the house, and have demanded better working conditions.

They've been sitting in my kitchen for the past several hours, shooing the swans (which are becoming more and more aggressive) away from the large puddle of standing water next to the now-broken sink.
Bird count: 92.

They became even more agitated when I informed them that I had neither cows, nor goats, nor any other mammals that could be milked.

At first I was overjoyed, because the mess the birds have inflicted upon my poor home needs to be addressed, and I asked them to get to work straightaway. As one, they frowned at me, informed me that they "aren't that kind of maid," and demanded to know where my cows were.

Day 8: The bird situation has stabilized somewhat. Though there are once again 23 more birds added to the menagerie, it's not the 31 I’d feared.
However, there is a new development in this new year. Eight women showed up with the birds. They identified themselves as maids, sent from my true love.

(I like the rings, though 15 is too many for me to wear).

I've tried to fashion a crude dovecote in my garage to house the blackbirds, doves and partridges, but the latter refuse to leave the trees they were delivered in; I suspect it's a territorial thing. Why, true love, have you inflicted this avian nightmare upon me?

Day 7: There are now 23 *more* birds in my house, bringing the total to 69. The swans have taken over every water feature (bathtub, sinks, toilets) and refuse to budge. Between the 12 geese and 15 chickens, I've more eggs than I know what to do with.

I was barely able to set up a screen on my back porch to house the dozen chickens I’ve been gifted with, but if the weather turns again, I’m sure they’ll push back into the house. I’m so glad I don’t own a cat!

Were it not for the rings from yesterday and today, I would assume that I’ve been enrolled in some maddening “bird of the day” subscription service, with each day’s selection larger and louder than the previous day’s species. As it is, the situation is fast becoming untenable.