The hawks have been flying low. I rode my bike into town for lunch today. A hawk flapped its giant wings just ahead of me.

And now, six hours later, I hear a screaming hawk outside my window. It makes me shiver. Its loud, high shriek.

My Onion desk calender had this info graph the other day: “What’s going on at 30,000 feet?” One answer: “Nightmare that began at 50,000 feet.” Another: “Hawk Strategy Meetings.”

Hahahahaha!

30,000 feet? What the fuck are they doing at ten feet?