I’m living by the Buffalo River now. Woke up one morning, and there was in my tree … I was on my couch. And there was, in my tree a ghost hawk. Four-to-one, the crows were botherin’ him. Four to one. And then, there he was: whoomph (he imitates wings spreading). So dynamic.
“Cousin,” in his early 60s (or looks it), beard, Wild Ones-style motorcycle hat. Leather back-brace belt. He’s sitting near his chainsaw art, all animal figures. He’s talking to everyone in ear shot generally, but in particular to two girls, early 20s, who are setting up a table for a wildlife rehabilitation group. The girls have two live owls with them, a great horned owl and a blind-in-one-eye screech owl.
Is … Is he doing his field work in Madagascar? I did my field work through Buffalo State College 30 years ago and I never stopped. … I studied post-traummatic stress. And triangles.
My car broke down last week. My tranny went. Then I rolled my canoe. Then, the devil got me, with those triangles.
(photo from Drew’s Flickr stream)