Pros Connection Challenge - Answer
Mar. 9th, 2018 02:37 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ci5hqYesterday: I saw this picture in the Bird Photographer of the Year shortlist, and it made me smile alot and think of Pros. I bet there are people out there who know why... *g* Hover over it to identify the birds.
Solution: The picture immediately made me think of Island Innocents by Glen Fiddich!
I so wish this was online so that more people could read it. I hope the author will forgive me for quoting a lengthy excerpt here, but it's just so ace. The lads have been sent to the Isles of Scilly on a job, and Doyle is sitting on the beach, on observation duty, while Bodie goes off to contact the HQ. Of course there are other people on the beach:
“I say!”
Doyle looked up. An earnest-looking man was approaching him over the sand, a pair of binoculars clutched tightly in both hands. On reaching Doyle he stopped and clapped them to his eyes, staring out to sea.
“Are they sanderling?” he said worriedly. “I’m not awfully good on waders yet, especially the little ones. I thought they must be - and then I suddenly wondered if they were knot. I hope you don’t mind my asking, only I saw you were watching them too.”
“Not at all,” said Doyle, a shade ambiguously. Pointing his glasses the way the man seemed to be looking he ob-served, for the first time, a movement at the water’s edge beyond the line of gulls - a swift, running movement, rather like white mice in a panic.
“It is so difficult for the beginner,” the man went on. “Getting it up from scratch, I mean. The best training, I always say, is to start with someone who already knows. It wastes so much time if you have to keep referring to the book.”
“Kills your enthusiasm too,” said Doyle, wild fantasies tickling his equilibrium.
“Well, yes - or else it just goes away while you’re finding the place! I hope those children keep that dog in order - people let dogs do anything these days!” He returned his attention to the white mice. “Surely they’re sanderling - they can’t be knot...”
Doyle, taking his cue from the RSPB badge on the man’s anorak had by now decided that Sanderling must be the name of a bird and not, as he had first thought, the present participle of a mysterious verb To Sandal - which seemed vaguely appropriate to a beach but he was blowed if he could see anyone actually doing it. Glancing round a little helplessly he suddenly spotted a familiar figure in a brown tracksuit jogging gently in his direction.
He bent a brilliant smile on his new acquaintance: “My friend knows much more about it than I do - I’d be quite lost without his expertise. Bodie!” He beckoned urgently.
The birdwatcher’s face lit up: “You’ve got someone to do it with, like I said - how absolutely marvellous!”
Controlling himself by a superhuman effort Agent Four-Five passed the binoculars to Agent Three-Seven.
“Do help us,” he said. “Are they sanderling, or are they not?”
You had to hand it to Bodie. With a small, superior smile he lifted the binoculars to his eyes and stared for perhaps six seconds. Then he passed them back.
“Sanderling,” he said.
“Not knot?”
“Definitely not. Look at the length of the bill.”
“Ah!” said the birdwatcher, enlightened. “So that’s it, is it? That’s most useful to know. It is so difficult for a beginner...”
Five minutes later Doyle raised his tear-streaked face from his knees: “...length of the bill...” His voice was still choked with laughter. “How do you do it, Bodie? I almost believed you...”
The birdwatcher was now a speck at the end of the beach - almost as small as the sanderling.
Bodie looked round from his surveillance of the Frère Georges: “Watcha mean - almost?”
“It just sounded so convincing!”
“Course it was convincing.”
Doyle turned to look at him, suddenly doubtful: “What do you know about sanderling?”
Bodie withered him with a look: “They winter in Angola, don’t they?”
Honourable mentions to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
macklingirl who suggested A Birdwatcher's Guide to Cornish Ghosts, and to kiwisue who suggested Private Madness Public Danger (Benny talking about "birds with very few feathers") or "Sand(erlings)...Spain...Torremolinos is in Spain...Doyle reading "Sands of Torremolinos" by Juan Goytisolo in TOS [Ojuka]"! There might have to be bonus points for that suggestion, actually! *g*
Solution: The picture immediately made me think of Island Innocents by Glen Fiddich!
I so wish this was online so that more people could read it. I hope the author will forgive me for quoting a lengthy excerpt here, but it's just so ace. The lads have been sent to the Isles of Scilly on a job, and Doyle is sitting on the beach, on observation duty, while Bodie goes off to contact the HQ. Of course there are other people on the beach:
“I say!”
Doyle looked up. An earnest-looking man was approaching him over the sand, a pair of binoculars clutched tightly in both hands. On reaching Doyle he stopped and clapped them to his eyes, staring out to sea.
“Are they sanderling?” he said worriedly. “I’m not awfully good on waders yet, especially the little ones. I thought they must be - and then I suddenly wondered if they were knot. I hope you don’t mind my asking, only I saw you were watching them too.”
“Not at all,” said Doyle, a shade ambiguously. Pointing his glasses the way the man seemed to be looking he ob-served, for the first time, a movement at the water’s edge beyond the line of gulls - a swift, running movement, rather like white mice in a panic.
“It is so difficult for the beginner,” the man went on. “Getting it up from scratch, I mean. The best training, I always say, is to start with someone who already knows. It wastes so much time if you have to keep referring to the book.”
“Kills your enthusiasm too,” said Doyle, wild fantasies tickling his equilibrium.
“Well, yes - or else it just goes away while you’re finding the place! I hope those children keep that dog in order - people let dogs do anything these days!” He returned his attention to the white mice. “Surely they’re sanderling - they can’t be knot...”
Doyle, taking his cue from the RSPB badge on the man’s anorak had by now decided that Sanderling must be the name of a bird and not, as he had first thought, the present participle of a mysterious verb To Sandal - which seemed vaguely appropriate to a beach but he was blowed if he could see anyone actually doing it. Glancing round a little helplessly he suddenly spotted a familiar figure in a brown tracksuit jogging gently in his direction.
He bent a brilliant smile on his new acquaintance: “My friend knows much more about it than I do - I’d be quite lost without his expertise. Bodie!” He beckoned urgently.
The birdwatcher’s face lit up: “You’ve got someone to do it with, like I said - how absolutely marvellous!”
Controlling himself by a superhuman effort Agent Four-Five passed the binoculars to Agent Three-Seven.
“Do help us,” he said. “Are they sanderling, or are they not?”
You had to hand it to Bodie. With a small, superior smile he lifted the binoculars to his eyes and stared for perhaps six seconds. Then he passed them back.
“Sanderling,” he said.
“Not knot?”
“Definitely not. Look at the length of the bill.”
“Ah!” said the birdwatcher, enlightened. “So that’s it, is it? That’s most useful to know. It is so difficult for a beginner...”
Five minutes later Doyle raised his tear-streaked face from his knees: “...length of the bill...” His voice was still choked with laughter. “How do you do it, Bodie? I almost believed you...”
The birdwatcher was now a speck at the end of the beach - almost as small as the sanderling.
Bodie looked round from his surveillance of the Frère Georges: “Watcha mean - almost?”
“It just sounded so convincing!”
“Course it was convincing.”
Doyle turned to look at him, suddenly doubtful: “What do you know about sanderling?”
Bodie withered him with a look: “They winter in Angola, don’t they?”
Honourable mentions to
macklingirl who suggested A Birdwatcher's Guide to Cornish Ghosts, and to kiwisue who suggested Private Madness Public Danger (Benny talking about "birds with very few feathers") or "Sand(erlings)...Spain...Torremolinos is in Spain...Doyle reading "Sands of Torremolinos" by Juan Goytisolo in TOS [Ojuka]"! There might have to be bonus points for that suggestion, actually! *g*
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Date: 2018-03-09 07:03 pm (UTC)I must go an look if it is in my bookcase. I think it could be, but I'm not sure. I should go and make a list.
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Date: 2018-03-10 07:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-09 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-10 01:38 am (UTC)But waaaay off beam *g*. I have that zine, too. Must break it out for a re-read, because it did not occur to me at all!
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Date: 2018-03-10 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-10 08:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-10 07:39 am (UTC)That said, Sanderling would make a great name for a villain! *g*