The wind was so strong here the other day that with a ball of string and a piece of cloth for a tail I've no doubt I could have flown one of those wooden tangerine crates like a kite.
So I was actually a little surprised to see a trio of hawks attempting to navigate the higher altitudes. I can't remember having ever before seen birds struggle the way those three hawks did. The outer most quarter of their wings actually folded and collapsed beneath the force of the wind. And each time a wing went down at a ninety degree angle the hawk went into a downward spiral until it could turn itself to catch rather than fight the wind.
I figured the three had to be the daredevils of flock. Almost certainly the rest of their bretheren were safely hunkered down in the underbrush. I could imagine the sane majority whispering between one another.
What - me go up in that? Are you out of your mind? I'd sooner walk an hour for some worms than go searching for a rabbit in these conditions. Just look at Hardy, Har, and Har up there in that wind. I tell you Agnes never could control her boys. The three of them are going to end up in splints from beak to tail.
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