“Here. We’re here.”
“Do you hear that Teddy? Where is it? Look harder, little guy.”
Golden grass, gray rabbit brush, alkaline white.
Tough country.
Soft cackling, a guttural purr.
I look harder, still in the wrong place.
Teddy’s black and pointy little nose pushes forward.
Between the field and the fence
A family.
Talking to each other — not to me — in the
Inscrutable language
of the Sandhill crane.


10 thoughts on “Eavesdropping

    • No. I don’t always want to take pictures and stuff. Most of the time I’m just THERE. Sometimes, attempting to record something, I just end up missing it. The cute thing about Teddy (besides Teddy himself) is he remembers things, where things happen and where we linger. The next time we were there, he stopped at that spot and looked toward where the cranes had been. Surviving all this shit has been a very interesting experience. In a way, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it.

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