I was sitting in our home office a few days ago, arranging books in the shelf by cover color in ROYGBIV order, as one does, when I received a text. MLB was in the den, and texted me, as one does when the other party is fifty feet away.
Despite the critical importance of my book arranging endeavor, I left it immediately and rushed - well, more of an amble, to be exact -- into the den. Sure enough, there was the unmistakable sound of something remarkably clumsy attempting to rappel down our chimney.
As I headed into the back yard to get a view of our chimney, a large bird exploded (note: this is a figurative reference; birds have rarely literally exploded in our back yard) from the pecan-less pecan tree. I initially thought it was a hawk, but it turned out to be a buzzard...which was unusual, but not unheard of. It was a portent of things to come, and those things arrived immediately as I turned around to get a view of our roof.
Buzzards are graceful in flight, but equally clumsy afoot, and the noise we were hearing was generated by their claws attempting to gain purchase on the metal cover and flashing on the chimney.
Stepping back a few more feet, I saw at least five more of the big scavengers on the roof, plus another gaggle (with apologies to geese) in the trees. I was eventually able to shoo them away, but I never figured out why they had graced us with their presence.
Granted, we had earlier returned from a hot and sweaty run and probably resembled roadkill, so perhaps they were sensing an imminent demise which would require their services.
Lo siento...you may one day feast on our tortured remains, but that day is not today, mis amigos.