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In Indianapolis three years ago, several families who live near the Indianapolis Speedway announced that they were fed up with foul-smelling exhaust fumes from the track. They intended to bring charges of Indy scent exposure.
Marilyn Bowden, a free-lancer, sold a punny piece to Sky magazine in 1991. She quoted the caretaker at a smelly landfill. He said that waste is terrible thing to mind. She recalled the story of the cows sent into orbit: It was the herd shot round the world.
The mail brings from Dell books a happy little paperback, “Bred Any Good Rooks Lately?” This is a collection of groaners put together by James Charlton. The 51 contributors include such writers as Isaac Asimov, Annie Dillard and Willard Espy.
The title of this wacko anthology comes from a story told by Stephen King. It seems that the smog in London got so bad that many of the city’s famous rooks began to die off. The birds had become a great tourist attraction.
What to do? London’s City Council, deeply concerned, at last found an American aviarist who was willing to raise a flock of smog-resistant birds to replace the fallen fliers. But the supplier was so slow that the Council kept nagging with insistent cables: “Bred Any Good Rooks Lately?”
Ronald King played with the same theme. A small stream flows through his New Hampshire farm. His wife, an inveterate gardener, plants flowers along the stream and keeps its borders clean and clear. This is because she loves to weed a good brook.
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