Friday, September 17, 2010
On the hunt for a Ginko Tree
Today I had a face off with a mourning dove.
I was peacefully meditating on the world around me, and the secrets to life, in the courtyard of the engineering building when there was a fluttering of wings and my nemesis MOURNING DOVE flew onto a near by railing.
He looked at me first with one eye, then with the other. I stared back, my concentration focusing like the gamma-rays from the sun. MORNING DOVE continued to switch gazes from one soulless black pit to the other. Then he stopped, his head cocked to one side, the emptiness of his eye opened wide, nothing but not breaking our eye contact mattered. I vowed upon the souls of all the dead squirrels buried on campus that I would not look away.
We looked on.
A single drop of perspiration trickled down my temple, a feather quivered at the tip of his tail.
I knew I had him.
He was beginning to quake slightly, I knew that my razor sharp sight would soon cut him into a raging inferno. (Yes I know that doesn't make sense, but its what was said on the fine-printing of my contact-lens box.)
Alas it would not be so.
At the last moment, the first of the early morning engineering students appeared on the scene, innocently calculating the equations that would one day save the world from an invasion of bridge fearing Theropods.
MOURNING DOVE knew too much was at stake, and a split second before he, the student and half the building would have been blown away, he turned tail and headed for the trees.
Until we meet again, MOURNING DOVE, watch your tail feathers, cause I'm watching mine.