Jeanie - hm good thought. "Mudsquawk," by Golly. The poor burdened birdie has to get it off his chestfeathers somehow, before all the Cymru troubles he's pecked up come to a dangerous beak and he just lets fly. Of course he might be too chicken too join, we being a pretty big 'Cat. But then again, as you say, "Maybe he already has." :)

- Pieces of Eight from Hull