They really don't like me. We aren't friends, probably never will be. But I love them none the less. Look at that back fan of feathers, the way their wings fold, the multi levels of feather patterns.
They fly past me with their fish connected to a foot or two. Relaxed yet determined to find a resting spot on the limb of an old soul.
A place to have a meal and be one with his world.
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