a flock of pigeons mills about in a lazy dance, pecking and shifting then explode into panicked flapping, as they wheel about, gaining spontaneous unity, reaching investigation mode, they bank heavily, like a C-130 gunship -- a Puff the Magic Dragon -- pivoting onto a target
In the forest there was a stately, old owl who intended to go out on the prowl, but before he vamoosed his cozy tree roost he fell asleep, throwing in the towel.
before opening,
a crow takes a table,
and demands service
the hawk's head-shifts are precise and follow in rapid succession... and then cease it lifts one feather at a time as if sniffing its pits it shifts from talon to talon, and then once more it seems to be settling in, getting comfortable for a long stakeout... and then it's gone, diving off the ledge, disappearing into the city valley
noisy parakeets loop above the neighborhood: just flockin' around
