When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Jimmy the Carpenter working on building a bookshelf says to his assistant, “Hey, hand me that hawk, will you?”
His assistant says, “Uh, do you mean this handsaw?”
“Yes, yes, sorry, I’m always mixing those two up. The hawk, yes.”

Bryce, the falconer, puts on his gloves, picks up the hood for his bird and shouts at his apprentice, “Pick up that handsaw from its perch and bring it over to me.”
“You want the handsaw!”
“Yes, yes, the handsaw!”
His apprentice picks up the handsaw that sits on the workbench for sawing perches and leather straps and such.
When he hands it to the falconer, the falconer goes nuts.
“Why would I want a handsaw?! Are you crazy? You see I have the hood right here. You know I want the redtail handsaw!”
“The redtail handsaw. . .”
“No, you idiot, the redtail handsaw!”
“Do you mean the redtail hawk?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Right. Okay.”
And the falconer’s apprentice bustles over to the hawk’s perch as he prays for a southerly wind.


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