We were having a lunch stop and I had finally managed to garner a taste of smoked ham and pea soup. Delectable but the view outside was even more of a drool.
They were fast. They were furious. They didn't like anyone or anything messing with their feed. When it came down to nuts and grains, these small little pilot pistols on feathers meant it. The "tweets", "twirps" and "screetches" were agonisingly painful to my human ears but a complete potent shot of adrenaline for the eyes and fingers. I had no time to think but to go on continuous shooting mode. In that vast spread of lakes and mountains, with not a soul in sight, the quietness of the day stood a stark contrast to the little hive of activity going on with these few buggers.
I could only be tempted to upscale through my imagination to visualise them, the birds, inflated to size of dogs but with equal level of the current ferocity. Would I had dared?
I don't know but I understand that a small cut, a small hole, darn, can hurt as much.
That as much, my friend, I can contemplate at the moment while I mentally ice away the throbbing pain on the tip of my nose.
I just got a new nose ring today.
