Flutter, Flutter, Flutter ... THUNK

Last night's frustration turned into this morning's motivation.

While Dale got ready for work, and Jodie got ready for school, I donned my sweats, my shoes and my Zune, then headed out the door for a quick one-mile walk around the park. One mile is not a lot, but it's a start.

It's 100% more than nothing.

I hit my stride just as I reached Circle Park (it's a green wooded area inside something akin to a block-long traffic circle). There's no sidewalk there, so I was enjoying NPR's Story of the Day while walking alongside the curb.

Then a small movement caught my eye. A feather floated down right in front of me.

Odd, I thought.

When I looked up from the pavement, another feather.

Then another, and some downy tufts. It reminded me of standing beneath a flowering cherry tree when a breeze picks up the blossoms, and petals float all around. Magical.

But raining feathers? This didn't make any sense.

I switched my attention from the story in my ears to the story in front of my eyes. Looking up into a pine, I could detect some frenzied movement. More feathers flew. As I stepped onto the curb, the tree limb bounced with one jerky motion, and a huge crow bounded into the sky.

The feathers were still floating down.

Then, all at once.

:: THUNK ::

I stepped over to the lump in the grass. It was the crow's quarry. It sort of looked like a robin, but I didn't see much of a red breast. What I did see was grizzly.

It was beheaded. Just the body. No head.

Thank goodness it was not twitching.

So I picked up this single feather and brought it home so as to tell the tale and write this eulogy.

The voice of Spring now has some dread
The burly crow chomped off his head