One afternoon last week as I was in that walkway between the engineering library and the power plant, a bird flew slowly by me. There was had another bird in its claws. Awesome! The bird of prey perched in a nearby tree.
Since I had neither ever seen a hawk up close nor seen one with a fresh kill in its claws (yes, I’m a city dude), I did what came naturally for both of us: I slid open my motorola and started taking snapshots.
Wait wait wait said the bird. Let me show you Blue Steel.
All right. Now make an interconnected series of tunnels like the Viet Cong.
I can’t, on account o’the carcass I got here. Pretty fucking sweet, innit?
Whatever, it’s just a damn pigeon.
At this, the hawk glowered at me as if to say with its eyes, look motherfucker, you could be next.
Squawk. Look motherfucker, you could be next.
Yeah, right. You’re just a fancy chicken. Just eat your little hors ‘œuvre while I handle my business over here. Unless maybe you’re one of those little nancy-birds that gets squeamish when people are watching?
Chicken? Biz-itch, do you even know who the fuck I am, squawk? I oughta come down there and –
Just then some sophomore walked up. What are you taking pictures OH MY GAWD IS TAHT A BIRD OF PREY WITH ACTUAL FRESH-KILLED PREY IN ITS TALONS?
Then the bird got annoyed. Oh my gawd I cannot stand the undergrads here. I’m just trying to get my grub on and they’re always fucking spazzing out over dumb shit.
Then it shat on me and took off.
Squawk.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare off your buteo jamaicensis, the girl said.
No worries. I’ve got another bird for ya right here.
