The great thing about cycling is that each ride is an adventure in its own way. Today I was about five miles out of town on an unlined two lane road when I noticed a red Dodge Intrepid approaching slowly ahead. It stopped and the driver, a black guy about my age, waved for me to come over. I pulled up next to his car, standing in the middle of the road. By way of greeting he said “What kind of bird is that?”
“What?”
“Back there. What kind of bird is that?” he asked pointing down the road behind him. About 100 yards away I could see a dot on a power line.
“That one way down there?”
He nodded. “Go see”, he instructed, giving me a little shooing motion.
“OK”, I laughed and rolled off.
“It won’t fly away”, he yelled.
As I approached what was now clearly a hawk I saw the two men backing their Intrepid all the way to where I stood in the grass straddling my bike looking up at the hawk.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a hawk.”
“A hawk?”
“Yeah. It’s a hawk. Looks sort of like a little eagle.” It fluffed its feathers and relieved itself. Then with two or three easy flaps of its long brown wings it soared away over the field. I looked back at the men. The older one, maybe the driver’s dad, slapped him on the shoulder with the back of his hand and said “I told you it weren’t no chicken!” and they drove off without another word to me.
Originally posted on 9/25/2010 9:55 PM
