the ballad of the bottomless bird

Legend has it that the Sewjourn Stork ...

was feeling a little chilly, what with being so far away from his tropical native lands* and the thought of a rural Victorian winter approaching.



And so, once upon a time in the autumn, someone kindly made him some bright and snazzy leggings.

But he was still a wee bit chilly.

And so another thoughtful soul made him a scarf.


Photo credit: Tinniegirl

The Stork was happy now, yes?

Um. Not quite. The Stork realised that part of his problem was a rumbly tummy. And lo, in the midst of the long hard winter he received the gift of a fish.


Photo credit: Jodie

But the Stork was not yet satisfied. The harsh winter winds of Lancefield troubled his delicate constitution and he demanded of the people a woolly hat. Preferably one that matched his scarf.


Aviator's helmet, with pin for scale

And definitely one appropriate for a now-grounded flying hero, long retired from the days of migration yore.



Clothed and fed, the Stork would be content now, thought the people.

And so, the people turned their evil lust for yarnbombing creativity focus elsewhere.


Note striking similarity of yarn and design feature stripes to that of the leggings ...)

But the Stork's discontent mixed now with Cactus Envy and as his rage grew ever stronger he called upon a Tempest to strike down upon the land. O, the winds howled, the rains lashed the land in horizontal needles of unbridled fury and the flood waters rose until the people wept and gnashed their teeth and it all made the front page of The Age.

And on the Sabbath the people awoke to find ...



... that the bottom had fallen out of the world stork.

(And the cactus bed really really needed weeding).

Sorry Jan.







* I have no idea really, just work with me ok?

Edited to add: the Aviator's Flying Helmet has been ravelled. Naturally.