The latest in the avian antics down by the lake:
Three birds whirling in the way-ups. Hawk. Seagull. Crow.
The gull is wailing.
The hawk is the obvious aggressor--either holding something or after something, but certainly up to something.
The two smaller birds work as a team and take turns buzzing. One shining arrow, one dark blot.
I've got nothing. We could have been watching the end to the ill-fated pairing of two star-crossed birds. Or the beginning. Or perhaps it was simply neighborly altruism on the part of the crow. Or the traditional reenactment of some old Native story--Crow suing for Gull's hand, Gull pleading with Hawk. Or an assasination attempt by Hawk's two closest councillors.
It all smacked of portent. Or maybe of riddle.
2 comments:
My money is on Crow.
I always feel bad for the hawk in those situations. They're just kind of gliding around, being all cool, then these little flying rats come up and start harassing the poor guy. Sorry for being cool-looking, you squawking headaches.
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