My truck died, so I've been walking a lot. Enjoyed it, through the snowstorms and freezing days of this intense year's winter. Enraptured every evening by the sights and sounds of my semi-riparian stroll homeward. Especially enjoyed the clattering gaggles of crows that would flop in and out of the nearby trees from time to time...
I realized: I have frequently called myself a canary in the coal mine, and it is true that I have gotten out of a number of explosive situations that others haven't seen coming. But I am a survivor, and I also squawk to warn others before I fly the coop. Plus, you know, the whole black clothes thing...
From now on I'm calling myself a sentinel crow.
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