Oh pointy bird.
Was it last weekend? Last Friday I was wandering around lower Yates with my friend Russ at around 1AM. We were killing some time before Steamers got out as we were gonig to try to meed up with some friends. Russ suggested that we go down to Wedge and grab some pizza. We crossed Yates and a couple of doors up from Lucky. A woman smoking a cigarrette was crouched down under the grey-green light. She said "I nearly stepped on it. Do you think it's real? Who would do that?"
I hunkered down and saw she was talking about a tiny bird...a swollup/swollo. it was frozen still standing in the middle of the pavement, almost perfectly blending in with the sidewalk. I hunkered down and saw it blink. I said if it was a fake it was a really good fake.
We figured out that it was in fact a real bird. 'don't know why it was just standing there. The woman picked it up and the bird was quite happy to just stand on her hand. I remember looking at the birds feet and how it was hanging onto her hand--the ridge of her thumb. She was still smoking the cigarrette and telling us how she used to have birds. She was sober and, I guess, walking home from work. We must have talked for abut 10 minutes asking questions about this bird: what kind was it? was it domesticated? did it fall? was it injured? why is it not doing anything? should she take it home?
Eventually the bird lept from her hand to the ground, and kept jumping and flying a couple of feet at a time. We caught up to it a couple of times picked it up but it would escape again. evenually it flew up behind us and across Yates. I couldn't tell if it flew into the tree, the street or across the street. After a minute of looking for it we gave up.
We never introduced eachother. I could not tell you what she looked like. It was 1AM. Russ and I were semi-drunk and tired. It was kind of a strange dreamy interlude.
As soon as we all parted company I realized I should have recited the steve martin poem "oh pointy bird"
oh well
I hunkered down and saw she was talking about a tiny bird...a swollup/swollo. it was frozen still standing in the middle of the pavement, almost perfectly blending in with the sidewalk. I hunkered down and saw it blink. I said if it was a fake it was a really good fake.
We figured out that it was in fact a real bird. 'don't know why it was just standing there. The woman picked it up and the bird was quite happy to just stand on her hand. I remember looking at the birds feet and how it was hanging onto her hand--the ridge of her thumb. She was still smoking the cigarrette and telling us how she used to have birds. She was sober and, I guess, walking home from work. We must have talked for abut 10 minutes asking questions about this bird: what kind was it? was it domesticated? did it fall? was it injured? why is it not doing anything? should she take it home?
Eventually the bird lept from her hand to the ground, and kept jumping and flying a couple of feet at a time. We caught up to it a couple of times picked it up but it would escape again. evenually it flew up behind us and across Yates. I couldn't tell if it flew into the tree, the street or across the street. After a minute of looking for it we gave up.
We never introduced eachother. I could not tell you what she looked like. It was 1AM. Russ and I were semi-drunk and tired. It was kind of a strange dreamy interlude.
As soon as we all parted company I realized I should have recited the steve martin poem "oh pointy bird"
oh well
posted by Dave at 1:31 PM
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