Not Many People
.
Can claim that they've been bitten and mauled by a lion and lived to tell the tale.

Well I have.

Want to hear the whole story?


Edit:

OK. Here's what happened. It's a bit crap but it does mean that I can tell the tale in pubs about my lion experience.

It was when Lambton Lion Park (is that still going) had just opened in the early '70's and the Legless clan descended on it. It was a bit crap. I mean, rainy North_east England is no match for the majestic savannah of Africa - even if you do paint your Land Rovers to look like zebras.

As part of the park they had a petting zoo. And in this zoo they had some 6 week old lion cubs that we kids were allowed to hold. So there's me. A scruffy proto-Legless proudly holding a lion cub when it decided to sink it's teeth into my thumb (that's bitten by a lion) and then proceeded to suck the life out it. When it couldn't get any milk it registered it's disappointment by raking it's back legs down my arm (and there's the mauling). Almost raised a welt it did....

Cheers



Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:56, 18 replies)

Vicious bloody ladybirds
Those funny, fat foreign orange ones with too many spots - surprised the Daily Mail isn't up in arms about these evil immigrants, eating all our aphids while pushing native ladybirds out, anyway....

They bite, the nasty little fuckers bite, and it stings. They are not cute or nice and their earwax smell is so much stronger than native ladybirds.

They look strange and sinister and they are too round.

Oh and they eat other ladybirds, deviant cannibalistic little bastards.....

I now have The Fear, particularly as they congregate in large numbers in my window frame - they are the chavs of the insect world!

Ugh
tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:KpXoSbKSB5V2yM:http://lh3.google.com/_f4nrU4C8x2o
(Beklet is inexplicably angry, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:52, 6 replies)

We had a budgie
named Georgie. He was the first pet my sister and I were allowed and we thought he was great. Sadly for Georgie, once my brother was born the attention he had got waned so he got cantankerous and vicious in the space of a few months. We think it was jealousy as he would go especially mental if my brother went anywhere near him, making that very odd noise pee-ed off budgies emit.

Not only was he now the grumpiest pet bird ever but he was obviously a genetic freak. He lived well beyond the average life span of his breed and as his age increased so did his bad temper.

He finally carked it when we were away on holiday and my nan was looking after him for the week. She had a look at him one morning and thought he "looked a bit peaky" so decided to perk him up with a spoon-full of brandy. As she reached into the cage to grab him, Georgie had one final hissy fit and sank his beak into her finger with which he promptly died. Cue my Nan, in great pain, leaping around her kitchen trying to shake a dead bird off her finger.

Georgie - he died as he lived, hating the human race.
(Innogen, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:50, Reply)

And then there are the red squirrels...
As a child in the Adirondacks, one of the favorite summer pastimes was to tame the chipmunks so they would take a peanut from you. Over the course of a month or so we got them tame enough that they would climb your leg, go up your back and take a peanut from behind your ear- or sometimes the little buggers figured out that I had them in my shirt pocket and would dive right in.

We also had red squirrels up there, rather aggressive and quick-moving little bastards who hate chipmunks. But as chipmunks prefer the ground and the squirrels prefer the trees, they have a sort of uneasy truce.

One summer when I was about 12 my neighbor had managed to tame a red squirrel to climb up on his shoulder, so I took to feeding him too. This was fun, as he acted differently from the chipmunks, and the novelty value was pretty good.

I was doing this one day and had the squirrel on my shoulder busily chewing up the shell of the peanut I had given him when I felt something on the back of my right leg. The thought "oh shit" had just enough time to form in my mind when the squirrel and the chipmunk saw each other.

You know how in the old Looney Toons they showed a fight between a cat and a dog as a sort of tornado blur with claws popping out of the cloud at random places? Picture that happening on my back and chest as the two of them chased each other around my body.

I screamed and they both took off, leaving me with dozens of scratches and an aversion to red squirrels.

Little bastards...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:46, 9 replies)

Spike the Bastard
I have many stories about this little monster, and his sister, I should have known better the first time I saw him and he chewed my hair extensions to bits, emptied a waste basket all over the floor, stole my mate's cake off his plate and was generally a little bastard (he was 4 weeks old at this point)

The cat has a bin fetish, and will find anything he considers edible in any bin. Oh yes.

Me and the ex-Mr had been out for the evening. Little Spikey (at the tender age of 9 weeks) had been left in the house with a big bowl of food an water. We'd had him about 2 days, he was de-flead and happy.

We get home to find the bin in the bathroom all over the bathroom and hallway floor, along with four rolls of shredded bog roll.

Nice.

In the middle of the hallway floor was half a condom - the 'open' knotted end. The 'business' end was nowhere to be seen...

Cue 3 days of examining every bit of crap in the litter tray for bits of rubber and a VERY embarrassing trip to the vets.....

Never did find it

And he's still a bastard

His other habit was jumping onto your back claws in, and hanging on like one of those furry rucksacks. Cute when he was a kitten, not now he's a fully grown, hefty stone-plus bruiser.....

There are others, if I can get through the trauma to post them
(Beklet is inexplicably angry, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:42, Reply)

Dog rapes boy.
This one brings last weeks QOTW and this weeks QOTW together when the family pet mounts this kid whilst he's playing on his game.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=0SgRGSk_wlc

(Promise this is not a rick roll)
(Miggyman, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:39, Reply)

Moth attack!
It's important before we begin the story that you know my wife is Korean.

A couple years ago we adopted our first cat, Millie, a very sweet female cat born in an inbred litter (mother was impregnated by her own son from an earlier litter). Cats are rare pets in Korea and most people consider them vermin, so they get treated very poorly. My wife has been converted to a cat person now though.

We were sitting in the bedroom once when I saw Millie in the next room leaping around trying to catch a moth. My wife asked what was so funny and I said "Millie's trying to catch a moth."

My wife shrieked and jumped on the bed. With instructions "Get rid of it!" I went to catch the moth. After I left the bedroom my wife slammed the door behind me.

It was a little challenging, but with Millie's keen eyes following its every movement I was making progress. My wife shouted through the door "Open the front door and get it outside!"

But that didn't make sense. I replied "Then more will come in," which triggered another scream from her. She was taking this little moth way too seriously.

Finally I flattened it when it came to rest on the side of a dresser. I picked up Millie and tried to make her knock on the door, which amounted to a fairly pathetic scratching sound. On the other side of the door, my wife screamed.

I opened the door and brought the victorious cat into the room. My wife saw the cute little cat and screamed again. She calmed down and asked me what I did with it. I told her that I had killed it, and it was squashed against the dresser.

She wanted to get rid of it, although I figured it was safe to leave there--the cat would probably lick it up sooner or later. So my wife got the garbage can, and I showed her the little dead moth.

At that instant, we figured out the miscommunication. She thought I was saying "mouse," not "moth."
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:39, Reply)

Gurnard spikes
Got spiked by one of these buggers once, right in the middle of my thumb. My god, did that make me sit down for a while or what! Not recommended.

Very hard to describe how it felt. It wasnt the sort of pain that made me scream; it was more the sort that genuinely made me wonder if my heart could handle the stress as the fire burning inside me moved up my arm and got closer to the vital organs.

Australia is awesome for critters that can mess with you.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:37, 1 reply)

Stupid Bird
A few years ago I was having a couple of problems with my TV reception and thought i could save a few quid by re- pointing the ariel myself.

The job itself was pretty easy until I was attacked by a bird. I was pretty used to this as this bird in particular had made a habit of going for me and a couple of my mates over the past few years. To cut a long story short he took it too far and I ended up falling to my death.

Bloody Emu


(The jokes on him though- hes now stuck with my less talented relative on some crappy kids show)

Bindun? (Gets coat anyway)
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:34, 5 replies)

My auntie
got a new cat recently. It's a sweet little black and white thing, thin and slinky, and very friendly.

So I was in her house, and new cat came in and jumped up on me and did the usual friendly cat stuff. Then it started to lick my hand. However, it then sunk its little mouse-killing teeth into my flesh. Hard.

I suspect it wasn't attacking me per se, but perhaps just trying to suckle my hand. Its mother must have had cast iron nipples when that one was a kitten.

Yeah, it's a crap story, but it's got a cat in it, so hey.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:30, Reply)

Appropriately named, I thought
Cats.
Normally, I love 'em. One part buzzing cuddlesome bundle, one part attention-starved leg-bumper, and occasionally, twelve parts malevolant screeching utter bastard.

This cat was called Spider. Adopted by my half-sister as a kitten and named due to it's tendancy to scale walls as a kitten. Or so i'm told.

Anyway. The upwardly-mobile kitten grew into a great big fat sneering ginger tomcat that radiated a permanent threat of imminent attack.
If this cat could grasp a bottle it'd glass you for looking at him funny.
Except in the presence of aforementioned half-sister, when it'd become a innocent ball of fuzz in return for being constantly plied with people food.

So! I am seven and visiting the aforementioned, with blond locks, blue eyes, and a sunny disposition towards kitties. I toddle over to Spider who glares at me with venomous slitted eyes. 'Just fucking try it', they say. I take absolutely no notice of this and reach out to stroke the nice kitty.
It hisses, yowls, and spits. Claws flex outwards, and it leaps up and attatches itself very firmly to my face like something from Alien, sinking all four claws into the back of my neck and head to the bone.

My folks who are having a quiet drink out in the garden are suprised to see their son run out with a sound of ARGHARGHARGHHELLLLLLLPP, arms flailing and an extremely angry cat for a head.
With a little help, the cat is detatched, bolts over the wall, and everyone shits themselves laughing.

I of course go and hide indoors and avoid the cat like the plague whenever I visit for the next eight years or so.

(Hooray, QotW cherry popped, length joke, hello all)
(Sundayturkey has the biggest mug of tea, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:26, 5 replies)

Dogs think I am edible
Over the years, I spent my youth being bitten by multiple dogs, starting with an Alsatian on a fairground biting my face when I was five (for which, I won a goldfish), had fingers savaged by Golden Retrievers and Dalmatians, and ending in the indignity of a Chihuahua running clean across a park to bite me on the ankle before running back to his owner

In addition, in the space of one visit to Chessington when it WAS still a zoo, I had a Camel sneeze down my neck, and a Shetland Pony bit a chunk out of my back.

I don't recommend either.
(Glis, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:23, Reply)

Barnaby
Years ago I was living with an ex, she worked up the road at a convenience store, sometimes until quite late.

Now there were stray cats that used to float around the back of the block of shops, and unfortunately they bred and then there were heaps of kittens.
I felt pretty bad about it, as did she, so we would buy a few cans of food every now and then and put food out in the car park for them.

Turns out, and explains why they were so well fed, that the dude that owned the Chinese restaurant was leaving his scraps out for them (ha ha no jokes), as were other workers at the ex's shop.

These things were really timid, you couldn't get close to them at all, I always tried to coax them over, but they wouldn't have a bar of it.

Anyways, someone had alerted the council about the cat problem, and they started to set up traps.
We felt pretty bad about it, but for a week or so they managed to avoid getting themselves trapped.
We started to notice that the cat population was getting smaller and smaller, and that was when the ex decided she wanted a pet kitten.
A pet kitten to name Barnaby.

I wander down to her work just near closing time, around midnight, we lock up, and we go downstairs to see if any kittens are around, and we notice that there are a few trapped in one of the traps.

The ex decides on which one she wants and proceeds to open the trap.
At this stage I am starting to think this is a bad idea as the kittens were starting to panic.
She gets the trap open, grabs Barnaby, he goes stiff.

Then he shrieked. I swear to God he sounded like he was being slaughtered. I have only ever heard cats in cat fights scream this loud, but this was much worse than that.
It was so loud that the neighbours actually came out to see what we were doing.

At the same time Barnaby manages to twist his body 180 degrees and locks his claws into the ex. He spins one more time, screaming at the top of his lungs and manages to lock his teeth into her forearm.

By this stage I am absolutely pissing myself laughing, getting a bit worried about the noise that's being made. Somehow the ex managed to peel a flailing Barnaby off her arms and he shot through.

As we walked home we tried to see how much damage he did, but we couldn't see the wounds due to the fact her arm was covered in blood.
Absolutely shredded, and bruised really crazy over the next week.

I've seriously never seen nor heard anything like it.

Barnaby, where ever you are son, my hat goes off to you, you're quite possibly the most evil son of a bitch I have ever come across.

And you were a 10 week old kitten.
(sinewriter, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:23, Reply)

Too many to recount
As a youngster I had a rather alternative menagerie of 'pets'. I was in to insects mainly and the odd bite here and there was only to be expected. Had a few praying mantises and they don't let go without some persuasion.

But the best attack I remember was when I reared my first silk moth. Dad came home with some funny looking things in a plastic container. Eggs. Hatched in to caterpillars which I dutifully collected various leaves for.

All very exciting (well I thought so), but the best was yet to come. These things pupated and then after a couple of weeks hatched out into these initially grubby bloated moths which promptly found an obliging twig which I had set up for them and inflated their wings. As a youngster I found it fascinating and watched the whole process for a couple of hours.

Thing is the moths have a large surplus of fluid which they ordinarily just eject out of their ass when their wings are dried and they are not poked about by an eight year old boy. When they ARE poked about by an eight year old boy however, they are able to shoot this excess with an unexpectedly high level of accuracy at their assailants.

So there I am with a load of moth jism streaming down my face and two parents pissing themselves with laughter. Mum didn't laugh the next day though when I put a fresh hatchling on the lounge curtains. Didn't come out in the wash, but it quickly became irrelevant as my sister's guinea pigs ate the bottom six inches off of the curtains the following night.
(mersault, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:03, Reply)

A couple of years ago
I was in Dundee minding my own business, smoking a cigarette when a mutant chav spawn (about 8 or 9) wanders up and demands "Give us a cigarette ya ginger faggot!" (I can't spell the Dundee accent)

I looked at him, and then said (words changfed a bit from what I actualy said) "I'm going to tell you three things kid. One, you're not old enough, two, I'm not ginger, three, in calling me a faggot you've lost the right to even speak to me never mind ask for a smoke so he can just fuck right off." The little mutant then kicked me in the shins and ran off.

Maybe this should have been in the last QOTW...but I maintain that chavs are not humans and he looked like a cross between a rat and a shaved ferret.
(Teran Thinks Pogonophobia is funny, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 13:02, 3 replies)

Is it just me?
But for some reason, the day after consuming a chicken vindaloo, my arse feels like it's been the subject of a raiding party by a group of marauding fowl armed (winged?) with flaming torches and a particularly large battering ram.

Funny, that.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:58, 2 replies)

scratching that itch
He came into my room last night. I lay on the bed, waiting in the silence. I felt him gently touch my skin as he explored my body, licking sucking, swallowing - I groaned and moved as I felt him take his fill - and then, just as he was satisfied, he left. I was hurt, but what could I do? No matter how tightly you close the window there's always one goddamn mosquito that gets through. I reached for the Anthisan.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:54, 44 replies)

Anyone studying at Salford Uni...
Will know of the turf war going on between the grey squirrels and the magpies over the various bins and rubbish lying about near the Clifford Whitworth Library on campus.

It used to keep us entertained on many a sunny afternoon. Magpies have honed the art of inflicting pain with that beak while squirrels usually leap from the shadows.
( Bamboo Steamer, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:50, Reply)

one word that will strike fear into anyone
....mosquitos....

especially in your bedroom - at night - when youve just switched the light off to sleep.

then you hear it,....


zezezezezezezez... its coming from just above your face...


I Fcukin Hate that....

argh!!
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:49, Reply)

once when i was in college
Me and few mates went for a walk at lunchtime.

It was a warm day I was wearing a white football top - if i remember correctly.

Anway, we were walking down a road, when off in the distance i could make out a bumble bee heading towards us. Now, Im not really that scared of Bumble Bees, they only tend to sting if provoked, so i didnt run.

It flies towards me - getting bigger and bigger as it approaches... it then dawns on me its one of those almost bird sized ones.. it was about 2 inhces long nearly.

it lands... on... my .... chest....

I instantly go into 'move face away from danger' mode, which is hard when your chest is attached to it... so im running backwards in a very strange manner with no chin to speak of.

My mates are all laughing so i do the only sensible thing.... whizz my T-shirt off and through it on the floor, followed by a 'theyre in my hair' style dance... it then dawns on me i have to put the T-shirt back on at some point... i couldnt go back to school like this, but wait... it could be still there... perhaps even on the INSIDE...argh..

luckily it had :) yay.

end of my little story.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:47, Reply)

Rabies!
Travelling to remote places (or indeed France) necessitates the travel clinic to suggest a rabies vaccine. Now, the rabies vaccine doesn't prevent rabies, it merely provides the unfortunate victim a little more time to get to hospital for some very unpleasant but lifesaving treatment. I paid me money and I got me shots.

Mongolia. One in ten dogs - and that's not just wild dogs, that includes domestic dogs - has rabies. We stopped at a ger to ask directions.

"Oooooo," squealed a rather annoying girl from my convoy. "Lovely doggy, though it's a little bit bitey!" and proceeded to pet the dog and generally cling to it lovingly.

"One in ten dogs in Mongolia has rabies," I told her solemnly.

"But it's sooooooo cute!" she gasped.

Yeah, that's right, my mistake. The cute ones don't get rabies. Bite me, bitch. Or rather, don't.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:44, 8 replies)

Not One Of Mine
Was a lovely story about a killer squirrel from hell but I've just discovered that Piston_Bloke beat me to it.

That'll teach me not to read all the stories before posting.

Arse!





Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:43, 4 replies)

When I was young...
My brother got a west highland terrier when he was a kid, who he called Sparky. Now me and my brothers being of school age left the dog in care of my mum during school. This had the effect that the dog only had my mum for company and became violently jealous at the idea of sharing her.

This little bitch (yes she was female) was the most vile, evil and hideous little dog for the most of my childhood. When my mum was on the phone and not paying Sparky any attention all of a sudden she was your best friend.

One time I remember being in shock as she came over, wagging her little tail..the red fire in her eyes gone and now replaced by those lovely huge puppy eyes. We played, I stoked her, she rolled over and i patted her belly she was up on my knee licking me all over...it was fun, the dog we always wanted was here and then as suddenly as she appeared I heard my mum say "All the best, goodbye" and a warning bell went off in my head, but there was no time, with the click of the 1980's style phone receiver being set down the hell fire ignited in that dog's eyes and the snarling started and the little fuck started biting and went into a frenzy not that different from the Tazmanain Devil cartoons....only white. I ran and she went back to my mum looking all innocent.

I did feel sorry for her years later when was dying of cancer, she seemed to repent at that point. It's not a nice way for any animal to go as any animal lover will tell you.
( Bamboo Steamer, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:42, Reply)

The daffodil had it coming

(Big Smurf Brush me daddy-O, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:42, Reply)

Zombie locusts
At school, I gave up all the science I could as soon as I could - but I was forced to do a couple of years of biology until the age of 14. Dissection was something that, by and large, came to those studying the subject at GCSE - but we were, just once, allowed to do a minor procedure.

My school had a small menagerie in the biology labs. Among them were locusts. It was the locusts were were to cut up.

Each of us - 25 teenage boys - was given a locust, a tile, and a blade. We were told where to cut the prone and lifeless insects. We were just about to strike... when the locust on my tile moved. The same happened to a couple of others.

THE LOCUSTS WERE REANIMATING!

We were evacuated from the lab.

A plausible explanation is that they hadn't been sufficiently heavily anaesthetised and that we had to get out so that we'd be out of the way while the staff chased the bugs and captured them. Yet the thought that they might have been zombies intent on preemptive revenge for their imminent dismemberment, and that the lab had to be shut for exorcism and strafing with silver bullets is much more satisfying.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:41, 3 replies)

Bisucit the naughty stoner bunny.
My rabbit loves weed. Not dandelion type weeds like most normal and sane bunnies, proper weed!

It first became apparent several years ago when we wers sitting at home enjoying a spliff or 5. The generally shy rabbit came hopping out of her cage and decided she wanted to play and receive attention (very unlike her normal self). This began to happen more and more frequently. No sooner would I light up the first doobie, the bunny would hop over to have a sniff, hanging around until I exhaled some in her direction, then stretching out by the fire.

The attacks started not long after. Disguised as her usual ball of fluffeh softness, she would smell the hash smoke and come running, nipping any available toes or fingers until she got her 'blowback'. Once she'd received enough 'Moroccan courage' anything in reach became fair game. Toast or pizza crusts left on the floor would be hijacked and taken to a preferred eating location (normally by the fire).

The true attack came when my brother was visiting one weekend for tea and smokes. Sat on the floor watching soe telly, he didn't notice that 'Stealth Bunny' TM had made a sneaky ninja-esque approach. With his doobie holding hand resting on the floor out of his sight, my junkie lagomorph bit his finger, frightening him into dropping the dutchie 'pon de lef' han' side (the fag - she didn't even break the skin). Quick as a flash, the rabbit picked up the smouldering juicy jay in its teeth and made off with it. (I had to confiscate said incandescent object for safety reasons.)

Length? 5 skins plus roach.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:36, Reply)

How I was savaged by a squirrel
Yonks ago - about three and a half yonks, if you're counting - I had a summer job at my local hospital. Appropriately enough, it was across the road from a cemetary. There were benches and trees in this cemetary - it was, in effect, a park with headstones - and I would wander across there at lunchtime with my sandwiches and a book. It was rather lovely. I would watch the squirrels, and, over time, began to recognise them - there was one that had a particularly unfluffy tail, for example.

During the summer, squirrels get hungry: the nuts haven't ripened yet, and last year's store is getting low. As a result, they become a bit braver. I would throw them a bit of crust or a crisp. Over the course of about a week, I managed to get the unfluffy squirrel to come closer and closer. After a little while, he would eat crumbs laid down right by my feet. The next step was obvious. I would train him to eat out of my hand.

The following lunchtime, I was prepared. I enticed the little chap over to me with a trail of Tesco's Ready Salted, but offered between my thumb and finger a prize to make any self-respecting tree-dwelling rodent spluff himself: a free lunch in the form of a piece of a Tracker bar (or something).

Nutkin took the bait. He homed in on the morsel... and missed. Instead of the nutty oaty treat, he took a bite of me.

I don't think any lasting harm was done.


*twitches*

And that is how I was savaged by a squirrel.


*foams*












*dies*
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:31, 9 replies)

Back in the olden days.
Like 9 years ago now when i was just entering the world of work. I used to live like 1 minute away from the bus stop. But amusingly id still end up running late for the bus.

Something happened one day, that made sure I would never ever be late again.

As I was running up for the bus, suddenly a huge dog bounded out of a garden and charged straight for me. An evil Mammoth thing it was, barking away. I looked at it and saw pure evil in its eyes. This dog was out to kill. It scared the hell out of me! So much that I'd lost attention on where I was running, and went straight head first over a bush splash into someones filled paddling pool! The dog wandered back off no doubt laughing its head off as I lay there soaking wet and cold.

OK OK. It wasnt a huge dog, it was a yorkshire terrior. And yes, it was a baby one.
(Miggyman, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:26, Reply)

A list
Animals that I've been attacked by:
Cricket
Lizards
Tortoise
Bees
Pond-skaters
Terrapin
Horned Toad
Goat
Pig
Horse
Hornets (a nest of)
Giant Millipede
Chicken
Ostrich
Duck

Animals that I've attacked (in self-defence, and not killed/maimed as part of my degree):
All of the above excluding the Giant Millipede.

This list is pretty much to aid my memory. I shall write the pond-skater story after lunch. Vicious bastards.
( Cawl, Fri 25 Apr 2008, 12:23, 3 replies)