while working at my desk, i was startled by something large smashing into my window. when i turned my head, i was staring into the eyes of pigeon in an unnatural flight position — prostrate in a cloud of its own plumage. it was a strong gust of wind and several feathers were already cascading onto my floor when the bird regained its composure at positive altitude and returned safely to the trees.
as they tend to, this shock reminded me of another, such, inexplicable moment. a bird rammed its beak into my head during the summer of 2002 (the day before my 21st birthday). i neither taunted or threatened it — in fact, i did nothing at all to deserve this — the worst i could be indicted of was a peaceful stroll along chicago’s waterfront while talking to kris. he’s a witness.
and what doesn’t the wind bring? it has been severe and whistling past our ears for a third day and counting. this was recorded yesterday:
on an occasional nighttime stroll through cambridge, leaning thick into a gust of wind, for a fleeting second i caught an unmistakable scent of the sea.