It made the sound of a door in Star Trek. I wish I knew who they were, as they cut the air beside me and in front, skimming past one garden and banking round between the houses. I’m not sure I’ve seen them since. But they were quick and impressive with their flight formation.
I hear there are two reasons for flocking. One has been given as making it difficult for predators to single out individuals.
But it is the second which I liked the sound of far better- the aerodynamic superiority it affords avians as they sweep through space.
Sometimes I wish, I wish I could write as often as I hear birdsong in the freedom from the ward. I guess it requires for me to be tuned in to it. Maybe I haven’t the prerequisite skills to work like the birds.
I think making a machine was a goodish concept with odd consequences.
Being without my glasses, I felt an advantage bestowed on me by the machine and the clock in the room although I am not sure I ever heard the ticks. Did they tick in the heart of the oak and not at the fork of a branch where I had been deposited?
I want to speak, chirp chirp cheree.
But it seems my speech is cracked, meaningless, disjointed for anyone who partially tunes in.
Again I ask my dear readers why does this seem selfish somehow without self centred rubbish being my aim. After all I would like to share life- so what makes it so difficult?