Soaring

If there ever was a day to be a bird, yesterday was it.  It was as if an avian holiday had been announced and every bird in the area, from the largest to the tiniest, spent the day playing.  Not a particularly sunny day for a change, the wind picked up in late morning and that seemed to be the signal.  Big flocks of wee sparrows flew in formation, turning in unison this way and that, and then for no apparent reason would tumble apart like leaves.  Vultures and hawks soared and swooped again and again, seemingly just for the fun of it.  Crows caught a tailwind and zipped by like jet planes.  Doves headed into the wind and hung nearly motionless in the sky.  This all went on for hours.  Even as the sun was setting, shadows continued flitting across the windows toward the west as if the birds were asking for "just a little while longer."  I felt sorry for the earthbound chickens who could only stand on the sidelines and watch their feathered brethren take to the skies.  I wouldn't have minded a pair of wings, myself.