I ran two miles on Saturday outside of the Great Swamp Sanctuary. I got dissed by a bird. It was not the trash-talk that seagulls will give you at the beach, but the supercillious dismissive look of a hawk. It was a fairly impressive creature, about a foot tall, sitting on a branch under which I passed (the branch is pictured, but the hawk is my rather lame attempt to cut and past your standard internet hawk onto the branch. Anyway, you get the idea). He didn't have the decency to fly away as I ran under him. He just cocked his fowl head at me and gave me the kind of look that my mother would give me if I'd spelled an easy word incorrectly, or put my elbows on the table. Okay, I look silly now, bird, but just you wait. In a couple of months...
To compound the indignity, my lads have been kicking my butt in basketball. I'll grant you, they cheat. Their brand of basketball is very similar to my own, at age 12: more football than basketball. One grabs my legs, while the other shoots. When I shoot, it's with one or both of them hanging from my shoulders. I still hang with them, but I'm starting to take a beating. Fouls? You see any refs? I didn't think so.
4 comments:
SuperDave,
I'm pretty sure that is either a toad or a bat in that tree. As it's light out, I'm going with the toad.
Ps, I'm looking for another computer so I can give Pulp the lead on that Has Been.
T'was a hawk, fa shizzle. Went back after the fact to take a picture of the branch (I think that was the one) Tried the paintbrush thingee. Cut and pasted, but not too very good.
Ok, it's a Hawk (don't look like no hawk, not every branch has to have a GD Hawk!)
Now, hey, my Pulpers took the lead, and I didn't even find another computer, someone else thinks Shat isn't the Shat!
That ain't no Pulp fiction.
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