Bowlful of Crickets

I can’t whistle. I’ve tried, oh , how I’ve tried. Every couple of years I give it a another shot, but to know avail. Either my tounge is too floppy, or my lips too puffy, I’m not sure. this boy just can’t whistle.

Which makes me thankful that I group up in Illinois, and not the island of La Gomera (one of the Canary Islands, as if I needed to tell you).  The children there speak in Silbo, a language of more than 4,000 words that’s entirely whistled. Oh, how they would have teased me.

Here’s a little film on Gomera, narrated entirely in Silbo. Tweet tweet!

The road to hell must be plagued with abandonded blogs. I know I’ve contributed to that path. But I’m trying yet again. Bear with me.

 Enjoy this picture of some otters whild I try to get my act together.