notes evening 10/29 - morning 10/30
There is something walking at night--maybe in the early morning, too. I hadn't been sure, before, if I had anything local. Hadn't been out at night.
Was out around nine last night--going to an anime showing--and even thought it'd been wet, all the leaves on the pavement and in the street were dry enough to swirl around and skrash when you stepped on them. Could swear somebody walking behind me was shuffling his feet for maximum leafcrunch.
Windy--all the leaves still on the trees were fairly firmly attached, so they'd ripple like cartoon sketches of waves, all parallel lines. I could hear the wind, but it only ever hit the ground just behind my walking feet, swirling the leaves around my ankles and out across the night-dark asphalt in shades of yellow and pumpkin pie, like the wind was playing a solemn game of tag with itself up in the high branches and the tops of buildings, but only came down to touch humans to play with the leaves.
Then, this morning (going down to the island and I wanted to make an early boat), it's cold, enough that I can't feel my finger tips except when I stuff them underneath my layers to warm them, and just damp enough to mist over patches, mostly low to the ground.
There was a mixed horde of crows and pigeons snacking on someone's last-night noodles on the sidewalk just downhill from the bus stop, and they scattered as I walked past. Fat little gray pigeons outcrowding the crows, or vice versa, all of them scattering at movement, whether from a passing car or a pedestrian.
The street lights were still on--I only remember because I startled when they turned off for the day, and looked up at the top of the bus shelter.
Raven. Big, scruffy, looking directly at me raven.
After a few seconds of mutual staring, he decided it was time to relocate, so flew down to perch on the post office's now-dark streetlight over the traffic lights, and proceeded to ignore the smaller, sleeker crows spanging all over the block, surfing the air currents running along the street and between the buildings, yelling and cawing and making general nuisances of themselves. The raven never moved, or made a noise.
He flew away as the bus arrived (seven minutes late), and I know because I took a seat so I could watch him as long as I could.
Other, yes, but not malicious, at least so far. Or if it is, it's taking the warnings of playful leaf-dervishes and calm ravens.
Was out around nine last night--going to an anime showing--and even thought it'd been wet, all the leaves on the pavement and in the street were dry enough to swirl around and skrash when you stepped on them. Could swear somebody walking behind me was shuffling his feet for maximum leafcrunch.
Windy--all the leaves still on the trees were fairly firmly attached, so they'd ripple like cartoon sketches of waves, all parallel lines. I could hear the wind, but it only ever hit the ground just behind my walking feet, swirling the leaves around my ankles and out across the night-dark asphalt in shades of yellow and pumpkin pie, like the wind was playing a solemn game of tag with itself up in the high branches and the tops of buildings, but only came down to touch humans to play with the leaves.
Then, this morning (going down to the island and I wanted to make an early boat), it's cold, enough that I can't feel my finger tips except when I stuff them underneath my layers to warm them, and just damp enough to mist over patches, mostly low to the ground.
There was a mixed horde of crows and pigeons snacking on someone's last-night noodles on the sidewalk just downhill from the bus stop, and they scattered as I walked past. Fat little gray pigeons outcrowding the crows, or vice versa, all of them scattering at movement, whether from a passing car or a pedestrian.
The street lights were still on--I only remember because I startled when they turned off for the day, and looked up at the top of the bus shelter.
Raven. Big, scruffy, looking directly at me raven.
After a few seconds of mutual staring, he decided it was time to relocate, so flew down to perch on the post office's now-dark streetlight over the traffic lights, and proceeded to ignore the smaller, sleeker crows spanging all over the block, surfing the air currents running along the street and between the buildings, yelling and cawing and making general nuisances of themselves. The raven never moved, or made a noise.
He flew away as the bus arrived (seven minutes late), and I know because I took a seat so I could watch him as long as I could.
Other, yes, but not malicious, at least so far. Or if it is, it's taking the warnings of playful leaf-dervishes and calm ravens.