Sandy Supposes....

Flight Foraging Fundamentals

Bard's Hall #10

         Perhaps I have too much idle time on my hands as I bake in the early summer heat and swat away the predatory, blood-sucking insects. What motivates those mosquitos? I wonder if they attend mandatory training sessions? I can envision a flight squadron with tough drill sargeant/instructors and malleable cadets. There must be a training manual, right?

         "Listen up you mewling wannabes. I'm only going to say this once. To acquire a target you must look for colour. If that colour moves, guaranteed it will provide your next meal. The red, peeling ones are easy pickings. They're already exposed and just asking for you to stop by. The brown, sun-ripened ones may prove more of a challenge. Their skin tends to be more leathery, tough, but still edible. No, it's not a rumour, the white, pale-as-a-ghost blood donors seem to be the sweetest. Need I remind you bare skin is your optimal target? Sure, burrow if you wish, but there's plenty of succulent, bare skin available."

         "Ah, excuse me sir. Some of the older skitters claim they've developed a sixth sense. They are attracted to anything with a pulse that expels CO2. Can we expect that, too?"

         "With enough flight time, yes, anyone may develop a blood radar. You will learn that different vintages exist. Will you like the taste of certain blood types more than another? Absolutely. A constant untapped supply awaits you. From several of my missions, I can attest that O+ abounds."

         "If I may sir? Could we explode if we imbibe too much?"

         "Nothing remotely like that has ever happened on my watch. Do not over-indulge. It will slow you down and scuttle take-offs. With added weight you experience less air buoyancy."

         "Ahem. Sir? I don't know if I can control my appetite? This is our flight fuel isn't it?"

         "I cannot stress this enough newbies. Take only what you need. I assure you the buffet never closes. You will have a choice of locally-sourced, or tourist import."

         "Sir, sir? I've heard whispers of distraction techniques. What is that?"

         "I'm pumped that you asked. An advance patrol first makes contact with a blood source. They buzz eyes, whine in ears. The rest of your squadron moves in. Do not hover, it attracts attention and telegraphs your presence. You are a stealth strike force. Get in, get out."

         "Um, sir? Rumours say that a great whooshing precedes the disappearance of our fellow flyers. Some mumble and tremble recalling a sudden, loud clap, too."

         "Risks exist, I'm not going to sugar-coat your raids. Every unit should have a scout. Their job is to shout abort, abort the moment they sense a downdraft. If you hear the clap, it's too late for some of your party. Irritate, yet remain vigilant. Avoid the whooshing."

         "I speak for all of us sir when I say I'm more than ready. When do we take off? I for one am famished."

         "It's go time, cadets. Move in, move in. Walking smorgasbord detected. Remember swarm, swoop, strike."