Last week on the way up the road towards home, I was lost in thought, telling myself for the umpteenth time that everything was fine, and the still unidentified mass in my breast had a logical non-hair losing explanation.
As I came up for crested the hill, I saw what looked like a large bird sitting on the split rail fence that surrounds the paddock of the horse farm on the road that leads to our house. I got closer and realized there were seven or eight very large chickens. I assumed they were chickens even though I didn’t remember seeing anything at that farm all the other times I’ve driven up this road.
I got closer still and realized they were not chickens at all. Eagles I wondered? We see a bald eagle around here from time to time. One of them teetered a bit ,and I realized they were buzzards. Their wings were unfurled to the sun, worshiping the light on a glorious summer morning.
I know birds can be omens sometimes – crows always give me the heebee-geebees – and I didn’t think buzzards were good one. And, back-lit as they were, I decided it was a sign of better mental health to pretend they were eagles. In the end, they turned out to be a good omen – buzzards or not.