It had been a stormy night, late December, in Canterbury. Winds were howling, dirt roads…one big pothole.
Ironic, my wife had just mentioned that morning how I…hadn’t had my eyes checked. And, that possibly, just possibly, I should get that done…sooner than later.
Perhaps, I shouldn’t have told the story of seeing the biggest and heaviest, crows…flying over a hiking trail at the waterfalls.
And, perhaps I should have omitted the fact that these, clumsy, chubby, birds…turned out to be wild turkeys.
During this recent early winter storm and being an animal lover…I had spotted a low to the ground stray dog. After pointing out this poor, four legged soul to my wife. I quickly jetted from the car to retrieve it. And, of course, I would be the hero of the day. Whistling and cooing the dog over to the car. The dog seemed disheveled. It seemed a little on the wild-side. However, it was willing to come greet me.
Then as if a ship horn in the fog. My wife honked the horn. The poor creature shuffled back into the bramble. Pissed off, I walked back to the car. Strolled back only to be chastised.
“Are you crazy? That was a fuckin’ coyote!”