When I moved here from D.C., my Washington friends joked that in moving to Wilmington I should be prepared to go barefoot and pregnant. While that seemed true, for a while we even had the rusted car in the driveway to contend with.
And then there are the chickens kept in our neighborhood. Today (on a deadline and all) I thought I saw one of my neighbors driving slowly as a bird clucked along the side of the road, as if tracking his wandering poultry. Being neighborly, Mac (4) and I went to offer our assistance. (Okay, so I sort had to encourage Mac to do this....)
When we made it to the end of the driveway: no neighbor, no chicken. Just an ENORMOUS turkey buzzard across the road eyeing the road kill conveniently deceased in front of our house.
As I ushered Mac back into the house, I tried to explain nature...of course borrowing heavily from Hollywood and the movie "Over the Hedge" to explain a possum and road kill:
"Remember the father who always pretending he's dead in the movie?"
"Yeah, but he's really dead, isn't he?" Mac said, referring to the flattened animal and wanting to return to the creature before any more of his dignity was lost to the buzzard's mid-day snack.
Throughout the afternoon, we countered our movements to the fits and starts of maneuvering around the buzzard and his meal, as the possum found his way onto our driveway.
I moved the dead animal across the road. The buzzard continued to feast throughout the afternoon.
But, as I write this, the buzzard continues his perching across the street.
I'm sitting here wondering if my new night/beauty cream is having, well, an effect that I didn't consider. Perhaps the buzzard is waiting for bigger prey.
Now that would really give my Washington friends something to talk about, wouldn't' it?
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