Tuesday, September 8, 2020

September Morning

 A cool and hazy morning - finally a sign of autumn? The sun hung there like a red balloon, burning neither my retinas nor the skin of my shoulders. There was no wind and no bird song. For days, there have been quail or dove hunters around, which probably explains why the birds seemed subdued. In the old ironwood skeleton that marks the turn-around of my morning run hunkered a dark shape. A vulture? As we came closer it unfolded itself into hawk-silhouette and screeched: Old Dark Female (RT) who has now greeted me like that for more than a decade - screaming like a fake eagle in a klishee western movie whenever I enter her territory, now even in early September. Without the lift of raising warm air, she took off on heavy wings and turned around rather soon to roost again - and screech some more

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