17th May - After Review - Cleaning out

Sticking his neck over the side of the building too, rob answered the question slowly, thinking, "well, Sparrows, chooks, them sorts, mainly. Not too many Raptors, I'm sad ter say."

He added, "THough I had a crow, once. T'was fine, till it took a liking ter terrorising t'bairns next door."

"Surely they have deserved it though? Or has the crow only found a fancy in instilling fright in those that might be larger than her and yet quicker to make afraid?" He observed the doctor for a moment, unsure whether to be amused at how high he has climbed and how much he resembled the child of which he spoke, or whether he should keep himself concentrated at his task.

"What happened to the crow, anyhow?" He added, and pushed the cart one stall further, for there was still a good deal of space on it to be filled.

"Well, I thought t'bairns deserved it, seeing as they were...less than kind ter us." Rob at least had the grace to look down, still discomfited by the feeling of knowing he was going to be told off for doing something he beleived was right.

"as ter what happened, they were turned inter a pie, which I wasna allowed ter ea." he added the last gloomily. He had liked his crows, but the pie ahd smelt good, and he'd been on bread and water for something or other most of that week anyway.

A sparrow flew past, chirping away at the closeness that he had come to, with Sinclair. Another had followed the first, and they sat a good deal away from the strange apparition, observing the man with their beady little eyes. The left one had begun to groom it's wing feathers, while the right one had chirped again then flew rather close to the surgeon's face as if to brave up against him and also to have him move away.

"Have you any intention that you should raise a bird, while on the march?" He'd asked again, and begun scraping all that remained in the stall into one small place.

Rob waited, perfectly still, as the sparrow landed near his face, then hopped unconcernadly away, deciding he wasn't about to eat it.

"I hadn't thought about it." he called back, as softly as he could, not wanting to disturb the birds any further.

There was no reason why he couldn't try, so long as he was careful about the mess and noise which would follow. And, of course, there'd be the waking up to feed the chick...on the other hand, it would be nice to have a semi-tame creature about again. He'd always used to have them, but here all there were was horses. Nice enough, but not conducive to sitting talking to whenever he felt like it.
But something other than asparrow, maybe. Something bigger.
"D'ye think I should?" he geniunly was interested in willoughby's opinion.

"Well, sir. I wouldn't know. Though It might be of good company." Willoughby replied honestly, turning to look at the surgeon.

"It might be a challenge of sorts, though you have said that you've raised more of them, so perhaps not such a great challenge after all." He smiled and wondered how it would look that a surgeon would have a bird in his wagon. Perhaps not as odd, and if it were tamed and if it were even the kind that sang it might ease the pains of the wounded. And even so, if not, it would be entertaining to see one.

"If I were to decide.. I would have taken one, but have it a chance to go, when it would so choose to spread its wings. Would it be too fragile for the life of the army, and for all that that brings?"

The second sparrow had maybe found it a bit much for him and flown a further distance away, and Rob was willing to raise his voice, though not to move, able as he was to angle a little further and see right through what he suspected now was a long tunnel.
"Twould depen on what it was, how big, how well looked after..." he shifted half an inch and blinked right into the face of an emerging swallow.

"I havena taken a chick from a nest ter raise it without t'parents being dead or such." he admitted, "So I willna be taking any o these swallows or sparrows...Though mebbe there's a nest nearby."

"A nest nearby with a dead swallow's parents or so? I wouldn't think there be the ..sad luck in that." For it might've been luck for Sinclair and yet not for the unfortunate chick. "What kind of chick will you seek?" And he chose not to add, whether he would find anything of use with it's parents. He hadn't imagined the birds yet as feed. Not the kind that were too small to be enough for a snack. Of course those birds that were hunted were a different matter altogether.

Would Sinclair had gone for a duck? He shook his head at the thought, for he couldn't imagine one such creature clucking merrily behind the surgeon.

(ooc - I have sadly to depart x.x for sleep, thus don't hunt too many birds, and see you about tomorrow! )

Rob tried to shrug, but stoppedwhen he realised he might be about to fall off. It wouldn't be so much searching for a particular type, though the idea of what he was looking for woudl probably guide his footsteps when it came for hunting out nests.
"ANy chick which might be helped along by my interfering, it willna be safe." he eyed the trees further off, long grass could also be hiding a nest just waiting to be discovered, "I've never put too much effort inter finding them." he admited, "Normally it be whatever I may have found while doing other things, or what lads, and lasses, may have brought me."

"Might I give them a fair warning, sir?" He laughed gaily and adjusted his hold on the neck of his shovel. He replaced it soon for a broom which had its teeth in greater intervals and was rather than made from straw made completely from wood. Meant to remove something bigger - or thus pile it up - it was of good use.

"You might wait for the young ones of the Portuguese perhaps bring it to you, yet they should be informed of what you seek, else they might never consider it." He looked at the cart, glad for the company which made the day less dull, though the punishment no less as one. "Careful there sir." He added and rested the broom against a wall of the stables, approaching the ladder to set it to stand more securely, just in case. "What would you name it?" He asked, mild curiosity and too keeping the silence from taking charge.

"I could tell t'bairns here about, couldn't I?" he considered for a while, nto having had anything to do with them so far, and not sure if he wanted to go along that path just yet. eNtertainment was one thing, a business deal quite another, at least in his mind.

"well, laddie, twould depend on what type it was, now." He peered upwards, wondering if the conversation was stopping any birds from approaching but the sky was clear enough. "I might try the tried and true- naming it after whoever found it...or some important man or other. Then again, where it was found, or a discription of it's personality..."

He peered over his glasses at the figure working below him, "Ye dinna doubt that different birds have different ways of acting, d'ye, laddie?"

"Well, I admit to not observing them much, but I guess that each animal has it's own kind of acting. So why would the birds be any different, aye?" He glanced at the cart, debating whether it was full enough to pull, or if it could bear a load from another stall.

Deciding on the latter he pulled it one stall forward, and began with the broom first, again as before. "Be careful of naming it by a famous a person. Atleast by any that is known among the armies." He grinned. "It wouldn't do, that you'd call for the bird, and such a man would answer instead. Though, perhaps still quite amusing."

Rob hadn't thought of that before, and laughed quietly to himself. "Tis unlikely a great man would answer ter t'callings of a 'umble surgeon, laddie."

He chuckled for a bit longer, but fell silent as he spied a change in the shadows of the corridor he was observing. A very small head, on with little enough feathers that he attributed it to a chick. it was noisy, too, echoing down the natural amplifier. He froze, assuming the parents were incoming, and was rewarded moments later by a swallow and a sparrow arriving almost simultaneaously, one deffering to the other and blocking his view. Soon after the cheaping stopped, and he could make out the sparrow feeding the chick, the swallow having disappeared into another cranny.

"So no famous men, then." he added, when the small drama had moved on, "HOw about famous women?"

"Well, if it's a female chick, then I would certainly call her by such a name." He lifted his gaze to observe the birds in their flight. Perhaps Sinclair was right and they were somewhat interesting. "Though you might then want to tell your lassy, if you choose one, how you have named your bird." He grinned and ducked as a swallow flew close to his head, past him and past Sinclair and again out the next window.

"Else.. they ladies are rather quick to offend, and more quickly to worry." He hesitated and flushed:"..Nay that I know... as much of it. I've been played a fool by a beauty, though I remember so little of it." He lowered his head and turned to the dung.

"Oh?" Rob was interested in that story, now. "Do tell."

All was quiet, now. Or at least, as quiet as, he guessed, five nests could be. He pulled off his glasses the better to look down at Willoughby and out accross to the trees, wondering if he'd see anything moving in there either.

"Ah, as I said, it is not much. For I remember little." He blushed and found the handle of the broom oddly of interest.

" What I do remember is..., I guess is a beauty, a true beauty that she was. And I remember her coming to me." He felt more flustered and shuffled a bit with his broom.

"Her hair was dark, I believe, and her eyes much like depths of an ocean or perhaps a mysterious lake.. so intense and intelligent." Perhaps her appearance had been in part romanticised by his memory being in part distorted. "She'd sat in my lap." He was as red as the collar of his coat.

Rob refrained from asking the obvious- why d'ye remember so little- and even managed to keep his grin to himself. Such poetry.

"AYe? and what did she...do ter ye, lad?" Even from ehre he could make out the furious redness, but he was going to get as much of the story as he was allowed. He didn't have much else to do, anyway.

"Oh, she did nothing bad. I think. That is, I think she had kissed me." He shook his head softly wondering a moment if it had happened or no. No, he decided, it must've happened. " Her lips.. they were so tender and light and warm. Beautiful and touched by red as ripe cherries."

He kept his gaze away, for he felt embarrassed and yet oddly willing to speak of it with the doctor. " She had kissed me, and gave me some wine. I admit, that the latter had been by far an excuse of a spirit, yet her beauty and her beautiful voice had excused it."

Rob carefully placed his own glasses on again, making it clear he wasn't staring, just interested.
"THere ain't nothing wrong with a kiss, lad, is there?"

He was trying to work out where the problem lay in kisses from beautiful girls, or women, as was more likely. Most men would be more boastful about it, to the extent of claiming to have done things everyone knew weren't true. Not, as he reminded himself, that any of this was his business.

"No, no nothing at all. Her company was most pleasant.. it is that I have gone ...and had myself drink, till I could no longer remember. This is what she had... begun. And I should have known better for sure. With an empty belly and a ..." He hesitated, and knew that a doctor would not joke about it as some of his fellow Hussars would. Those that enjoyed a good drink any day any time.

" Not quite the endurance .. in drink, neither." He smiled. "I do not blame her, that is.. but the drink. And with that drink I have lost my purse and since could not find it." He frowned at the later. He'd had no money because of it.

Rob nodded, understanding. Some men just weren't as gifted in that area. He'd often wondered if it had something to do with the age they started drinking, or was just a twist of fate.
"SO she got ye drunk and took yer purse." He guessed he should have seen that one coming. It was certainly a cleaner profession than what many beautiful women decided to do. "Did she leave ye with t'wrath of an unpaid bartender ter deal with as well? Or was he in on the act too, d'ye think?"

"No... well, I am not quite sure where I have lost the purse. I would not place blame on her, sir. " It was odd, but he hadn't remembered being asked to pay, though he didn't quite remember much since. " Perhaps she is innocent, I'm sure she must be. It was me, to be a fool to drink when I oughtn't have. I should've declined yet... I guess I had already been drunk of her beauty and charm."

He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "But, ... doctor. Is there a manner in which a man is not made fool by such a woman?" For ladies were so reserved and so cool, that it was expectant of some, to have a brush of ice on their cheeks.

Rob sighed slightly, "As far as I ken, laddie, there's no way ter win over a women, short of running away." he shook his head, wriggling backwards as he realised his shoulders were also lying over the edge of the building, "Which is hardly a good response."

Not that he'd ever tried ot understand women, and had always been bemused even by his own sisters. "I'd have ter agree that when a woman knows her looks, she is more ready ter take advantage over ye, and tis even worse."

"Indeed, so it is. A woman's weapon her looks in union with her wits, feels harmless and yet it can cause men to do things that no threat nor weapon of the enemy could." He smiled relieved it wasn't only himself that was to blame for falling so easily. He however did wonder if he would see her again or if better he didn't. Considering his punishment though, he reckoned he also wouldn't.

"Wars have been fought over women, and duels are most frequent a thing.." He observed Sinclair just to be certain that he wouldn't fall.

"Even as lads, we faught at school, fer t'lassies ter notice us...or fer us ter earn t'right ter carry her books." He remembered watching them fight over his own sisters and wondering why, when he knew first hand their flaws as well as how the rest of the world saw them.

"WOmen are a load of bother, laddie, even married men'll tell ye that." and hadn't his own Hamish complained about that often enough, despite the care his own wife had shown him?