I just thought some of you might find it humorous that, after talking about whistles, whistles, and more whistles, ad infinitum, I am now stepping outside the bos…
Syrinx was an Arcadian river-nymph who was pursued by Pan. To escape him she fled into the waters of her river where she pleaded the gods for help, and they changed her into a reed. Disappointed, Pan cut the reed into pieces of gradually decreasing lengths, fastened them together with wax and thus produced the shepherd’s flute, or “pipes of Pan”, upon which he plays.
Could have been worse. They could have turned her into a nice plump duck for the now famished-because-of-all-the chasing Pan to snack on… Personally I would rather be a twig than be eaten by a half man half goat with the sexual prowess of a Jack Rabbit…
-Cy
Or they could’ve said “Oy, Pan, behave yerself” and given him a good godly boot skwar in the 'nads.
But no-o-oh, let’s turn the poor helpless nymph into a reed, mwa-ha-ha, and if anyone complains we can look all innocent and inscrutable and go “but…we saved her, dint we, which is wot she asked for innit, where’s the problemo?”. Then they go titter behind the bike sheds: “hehe, we changed her into a reed! shoulda seen the look on her face!”
And what about Salmacis then eh? What did Hermaphroditus ever do to deserve his fate, eh?
Barstewards, the lot of 'em… Never trust any of the gods, especially if they appear in yer bedroom as a shower of gold…