A flock of birds flies out over the water, their wings flicker in unison. They turn back quick, changing colors. Their one side is dark, and the other is white. They zigzag in front of me five or seven times, finally settle on their first heading, and then they’re gone.
There’s another flock floating around out there. One dunks its head beneath the surface and disappears. The others follow, one every ten or fifteen seconds, until there’s one left. That last one just stays up on the water.
But they all come back up to the surface eventually, right? The last one left as “lookout”?
Our birds have disappeared. It’s the damndest thing. They were here in February, too early, then they took off to parts unknown. I keep throwing out food for them, a delicious, variable Bird Banquet, but the squirrels, thinking they are the invited guests, steal it all.
I’m worried about the birds. They’re late to supper.