Shout out to my girl Lindsey “Wave of Mutilation” Arturo, who said the first thing she’d ask me when I returned from Ireland is what small creatures I discovered. This one’s for you.
Ireland has some animals. Not too many, but a few, and so far they’ve all made me feel uncomfortable. For your zoological education, I offer a brief guide to the wildlife of Ireland.
Squirrels here have no game whatsoever. If you think a single red squirrel sighting can get me excited, you obviously don’t know about Gus. Meet Gus.
This is Gus. He is a fatass squirrel who lives on my deck eating whatever s%@# he can get his paws on.
In Murica we have real squirrels who do it right, stuffing their faces full of garbage and waddling around in near patriotic fashion. Playas like Gus don’t waste their time jumping tree to tree like some dandy fox imposter with too much ear hair. They just wait for the humans to come to them, flash ‘em a chubby smile and nom till they explode. Keep doing your thing, squirrels. I respect you.
Pigeons have a serious attitude problem. They do not pose for pictures, they do not do anything funny, and they always get in my way. One time in Cork I saw a sweet alcove in the side of a church, and what do you think I found there? Three pigeons s&*##ing on the face of the Virgin Mary. Nice, pigeons. Real nice.
Pigeons committing sacrilege.
Seagulls are just poser pigeons. Not much to say about seagulls, except that they are ravenous scavengers and act more pretentious than a frat boy at a football game. 
See this seagull? He thinks he’s the captain of the ship. What a tool.
Crows make me think I’m gonna die. For weeks I’d been hearing the noise of creatures plotting under my window eaves, so a few days ago when they woke me up at a stupidly early hour I decided to catch them in the act. I ripped open my curtains to find a demon crow staring me straight in the eyeball, causing me to loose a particularly sharp Bieber scream into the apartment quad. Thanks to these crows, I have a constant reminder of my impending mortality and a link to my boy Edgar Allen Poe.
No picture for this one. If you take a picture of a crow, it eats your soul.
Seals, unlike most birds, would actually make my crew.
This is a Grey Seal. We understand each other.
The Grey Seals of Howth Harbor spend most of their time cruising around the marina, tempting people to throw them fish. I liked watching them sneeze and chow down on harbor weed. One seal and I had a moment when I stared deep into its massive cow eyes and contemplated how much cooler it was than a sea cow. Like me, Grey Seals get by with their laziness and procrastination by being really, really ridiculously good looking.
And of course, there are sheep.
Fools thought the sheep jokes were over. Too bad you didn’t know the #1 rule about sheep jokes: they are NEVER over. I have made so many sheep jokes this trip that if I tell one more, one of my friends may literally throw a sheep at me. As in they will walk to the nearest patch of grass, pick up a sheep, and concuss it against at my head.
So you don’t have to listen to me talk about sheep, I’ve created a brief montage about them. Watch it.
Ya. Ireland has some goats too.
Music credit to Waylander and e-water.net
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