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192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
One evening I came home and there on the couch I found my husband, Tom, with a freshly fledged Crow sitting calmly in his lap. They were busy watching Star Trek: The Next Generation; since Captain Jean-Luc Picard was in the midst of an absorbing monologue, they hardly registered my arrival, but finally they both glanced my way, Tom looking a little sheepish, the Crow nibbling bits from a can of gourmet cat food.
In the morning boisterous Crows alert me to the Peregrine [falcon] overhead, flying for open water, talons clutched around a smaller bird body. � My thoughts border on a hope that the Peregrine had swiftly culled the one-eyed Dunlin, sparing her weeks of increasing starvation and confusion. But that night I see the bird on the side of the road, alone now, drinking from a mud puddle. Oil from the many parked cars has invaded the ground here, and rises in the puddle — rainbow colors around the Dunlin’s thin reflection. She peers into the water with one good eye. Holy, simple, shining bird. I speak to her out loud. �I have seen you.�