Drytown

On the fifth day I traded pavement for dirt

Something had them upset - the crows, I mean. There were three of them, the jet black of their feathers soaking in as much heat as the blacktop melting my tires. They circled around me, flew ahead just a little and landed, took flight as I got up to their momentary perch, then repeated the whole process, again and again. All the while their mouths were wide open, and from which they unleashed a very loud, plaintive caw. Sometimes, when they perched their wings would droop down and behind them; if you were to un-focus your eyes it looked like they were melting. I was sure it was an attempt to keep cool, just as I was sure their vocalizations were pleas, expectations that I could do something about the heat, provide some relief to their suffering. 

For four days those crows, always three, always the same three, always at the same place, engaged in this little drama between the four of us. Although they were pitiable rather than threatening, I thought of Alfred Hitchcock, their behavior was very unusual. On the fifth day my legs took me elsewhere. When I had finished riding on that fifth day my arms hung limply at my sides, shoulders too tired to remain upright, sweat dripped from my nose, my brow, my fingertips, the toes of my shoes, and when I blinked it rained down from my eyelashes. If you were a crow perched nearby and had unfocused your eyes it might have looked like I was melting.

some people will go to lengths to get a shot

Dan "Leader" Aul (3/25/46 - 4/5/16)

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