Today is my 60th birthday. That's supposed to be a significant birthday, but it doesn't feel special to me. I don't feel any different. I guess I'm surprised I made it this far, but that's only because I lived such a dangerous life. They say "The good die young" so by inference the bad live forever. So I'm 60 years old today and going strong. Doubt I'll live forever, but do feel like I've got more left in me.
The heart attack and quadruple bypass heart surgery six years ago was a scare, but I've been feeling good since. Since today is Thursday I'll play soccer with the youngsters. One of them just slapped me on the back and reminded me about the game tonight. Said something about me being too old to remember, but wanted me out there to play. He doesn't know today is my birthday because I keep that a secret. No reason for it, but I don't want any one here to know.
Think I'll call Mary tonight so she can rub it in that I'm 60. Got to let her have some fun too.
Friday, August 26, 2016
Thursday, August 25, 2016
"True Detective" Book Review
Just finished reading "True Detective" by Max Allan Collins. Though it is not listed as such, I'd go so far to call "True Detective" a story of Historical Fiction. It's a detective story set in 1932 Chicago that accurately portrays the depth of the city government's corruption and ties to Al Capone's mob, which was being run by Frank Nitty at the time. I'm not particularly interested in this period of time, but this book was so well written that it drew me in. It was full of period facts, like that you could have a good meal in a decent restaurant for .15 cents, or that you could buy a four year old Ford for $40. The author would use a period term that I didn't know without explaining it, which was a writing style I liked.
This was a rare book that I really enjoyed.
This was a rare book that I really enjoyed.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
Drunk Pigeons
This story goes back about twelve years ago, to the days when hooch, or prison wine was common. You never see it here any more, but back then hooch was a way of life. It was a constant struggle with the inmates who made it to hide it from the correctional officers, who were always trying to find it. Often when they found it the officers would dump it down the nearest toilet, but on this occasion the hooch was inside a large plastic milk bag, so too much for the toilet. This bag they took outside the block and dumped it in the grass.
The hooch was made out of assorted fruit with a considerable amount of bread to work as yeast. So when it was poured out into the grass the liquid leached into the ground, but the fermented fruit and bread rested on top of the grass. It didn't take long for the ever present pigeons to spot the smorgasbord and land to dine. Most of the pigeons gave up after the first bite, but a few stayed and ate more. I was one of a group of guys who stood at the windows watching this, wondering if a pigeon could get drunk. Turns out they can.
Of those that stayed to eat the fermented meal all but one left in less than five minutes. I watched those that flew off carefully. I'd once made the mistake of flying my airplane after drinking a single beer. You can drink a beer and drive a car just fine, but as I learned then, an airplane is an entirely different matter. Knowing I'd made a mistake I landed at the first airport I reached and stayed on the ground for eight hours, just as FAA rules dictate. "Eight hours from bottle to throttle." I found it interesting that all the pigeons that flew off landed immediately on the adjoining building. As best I could tell they all stayed put. Smart birds.
But this one pigeon liked those fermented bits. Shortly after all the other birds had left him alone this pigeon started to walk funny. A couple of minutes later when she leaned over to peck at a piece of fermented bread she tilted forward until her belly was on the ground but her feet were not. Even though it was funny no one laughed because we all thought the bird had died. This was an issue because we often fed the birds, so sort of liked them. But in less than a minute the pigeon righted itself, took a few wobbly steps and ate some more, then fell over again. Now we were all laughing because this was hysterical. The bird kept eating and passing out. Each time it fell forward until only its belly was holding it up. It never fell all the way over, which was odd, but entertaining to watch. In response to our loud laughter it attempted to fly, which might have been the saddest thing I have ever seen a bird do. On it's first attempt it only flapped one wing, on the next all it did was beat the ground with both wings. After a few failed attempts to fly it gave up and ate more fermented bread.
If we'd have had this on video it would be a You Tube sensation.
We'd noticed that it was staying passed out longer each time, so we figured it wouldn't be long before it passed out long enough to sober up. About this time someone remembered the cats. Every night about time for the 4:00 count several cats would show up under these windows because we fed them there too. As that time drew near I went to the cop and asked if he could do something to help the pigeon. I couldn't get out there so I had hopped the officer would help. He seemed sympathetic but couldn't leave his post do save a drunk bird.
When we were locked down for count the last I saw the pigeon she was stumbling around and looking a little better. When I was able to return to the window after count twenty minutes later a big feral cat sat in the midst of pigeon feathers licking it's paws clean.
The hooch was made out of assorted fruit with a considerable amount of bread to work as yeast. So when it was poured out into the grass the liquid leached into the ground, but the fermented fruit and bread rested on top of the grass. It didn't take long for the ever present pigeons to spot the smorgasbord and land to dine. Most of the pigeons gave up after the first bite, but a few stayed and ate more. I was one of a group of guys who stood at the windows watching this, wondering if a pigeon could get drunk. Turns out they can.
Of those that stayed to eat the fermented meal all but one left in less than five minutes. I watched those that flew off carefully. I'd once made the mistake of flying my airplane after drinking a single beer. You can drink a beer and drive a car just fine, but as I learned then, an airplane is an entirely different matter. Knowing I'd made a mistake I landed at the first airport I reached and stayed on the ground for eight hours, just as FAA rules dictate. "Eight hours from bottle to throttle." I found it interesting that all the pigeons that flew off landed immediately on the adjoining building. As best I could tell they all stayed put. Smart birds.
But this one pigeon liked those fermented bits. Shortly after all the other birds had left him alone this pigeon started to walk funny. A couple of minutes later when she leaned over to peck at a piece of fermented bread she tilted forward until her belly was on the ground but her feet were not. Even though it was funny no one laughed because we all thought the bird had died. This was an issue because we often fed the birds, so sort of liked them. But in less than a minute the pigeon righted itself, took a few wobbly steps and ate some more, then fell over again. Now we were all laughing because this was hysterical. The bird kept eating and passing out. Each time it fell forward until only its belly was holding it up. It never fell all the way over, which was odd, but entertaining to watch. In response to our loud laughter it attempted to fly, which might have been the saddest thing I have ever seen a bird do. On it's first attempt it only flapped one wing, on the next all it did was beat the ground with both wings. After a few failed attempts to fly it gave up and ate more fermented bread.
If we'd have had this on video it would be a You Tube sensation.
We'd noticed that it was staying passed out longer each time, so we figured it wouldn't be long before it passed out long enough to sober up. About this time someone remembered the cats. Every night about time for the 4:00 count several cats would show up under these windows because we fed them there too. As that time drew near I went to the cop and asked if he could do something to help the pigeon. I couldn't get out there so I had hopped the officer would help. He seemed sympathetic but couldn't leave his post do save a drunk bird.
When we were locked down for count the last I saw the pigeon she was stumbling around and looking a little better. When I was able to return to the window after count twenty minutes later a big feral cat sat in the midst of pigeon feathers licking it's paws clean.
Big House Pranks
Any time you put a thousand men of different backgrounds together into a small area for an extended period of time you end up with a lot of funny stories. I can't use guys real names so I'll make up names to make the story flow better and I won't bother with trying to assign a time frame to it as that won't matter to the story itself. What will matter is that these stories will give you a little insight into what prison life is like.
Ken was large black guy with limited cranial ability. Meaning he was fat and not too bright. But he was a nice guy and everyone liked him. I liked him. A good example of Ken's personality is that one day I saw him staring at this new guy, but not saying anything. The new guy was a young white fellow who wore his paints low on his hips, braided his hair and talked like an inner city black guy. The new guy didn't know Ken so when he realized Ken was staring at him he became offended and in a confrontational way said, "What!" Not realizing the new guy was irritated, Ken said exactly what was on his mind. Ken couldn't figure the new guy out so he said, "What is you?" Everyone laughed and the situation was defused.
At the time I made fudge which I sold for an income. I didn't make much, but my fudge was so good it was in high demand. I also experimented with making candy and other sweets, so Ken was used to seeing me with something good to eat and he wasn't shy about asking for some. One day in the art room a guy found an old case of Crayola crayons. There were thousands of them, but as no one used crayons I accepted a 24 pack to use as a joke. I used a razor to cut the tips off which gave me 24 multi-colored bits that looked like candy. I went around the room offering this "candy" to guys but they weren't going for it.
I was about to give up on my prank when Ken came into the room. I acted like I was eating something, which pulled him in. "What you eatn," he asked. I had my hand open so he could see the multi-colored "candy" which is what his eyes were focused on. "Candy," I said. "Want some?" He held out his big hand so I dumped them all into his hand. Ken immediately popped half the crayons into his mouth. I'm not very good at keeping a straight face so I just walked off, laughing as I went. I left the art room and went back to the block, soon forgetting about the event.
I saw Ken later that day and he said, "Very funny. You got me." So we shared a good laugh and the rest of the night guys were laughing about it. All in good humor.
The next day Ken walked up to me with a pair of scissors and a sheet and said, "You ready?" I said, "Sure." then sat down and let him cut my hair. Ken was my barber, not the best we had but he was cheap and I wasn't that particular about my hair. Nor did I pay attention to when my hair got long, so Ken would let me know when I needed a cut, which I always appreciated. So this was a normal event for us that I didn't give a second thought. As was my habit I kept telling him to hurry up as he cut my hair and as was his habit he ignored me and took his time. When he was done I thanked him, complained about how slow he was and paid him. The first guy I passed after the hair cut looked at me funny. The next guy laughed. This caused me to find a mirror. Ken had given me a creatively horrible hair cut. He'd gotten even with me and somehow done it with a straight face. Every time guys told that story, which they did often, I was the dummy.
Such is life in the Big House.
Ken was large black guy with limited cranial ability. Meaning he was fat and not too bright. But he was a nice guy and everyone liked him. I liked him. A good example of Ken's personality is that one day I saw him staring at this new guy, but not saying anything. The new guy was a young white fellow who wore his paints low on his hips, braided his hair and talked like an inner city black guy. The new guy didn't know Ken so when he realized Ken was staring at him he became offended and in a confrontational way said, "What!" Not realizing the new guy was irritated, Ken said exactly what was on his mind. Ken couldn't figure the new guy out so he said, "What is you?" Everyone laughed and the situation was defused.
At the time I made fudge which I sold for an income. I didn't make much, but my fudge was so good it was in high demand. I also experimented with making candy and other sweets, so Ken was used to seeing me with something good to eat and he wasn't shy about asking for some. One day in the art room a guy found an old case of Crayola crayons. There were thousands of them, but as no one used crayons I accepted a 24 pack to use as a joke. I used a razor to cut the tips off which gave me 24 multi-colored bits that looked like candy. I went around the room offering this "candy" to guys but they weren't going for it.
I was about to give up on my prank when Ken came into the room. I acted like I was eating something, which pulled him in. "What you eatn," he asked. I had my hand open so he could see the multi-colored "candy" which is what his eyes were focused on. "Candy," I said. "Want some?" He held out his big hand so I dumped them all into his hand. Ken immediately popped half the crayons into his mouth. I'm not very good at keeping a straight face so I just walked off, laughing as I went. I left the art room and went back to the block, soon forgetting about the event.
I saw Ken later that day and he said, "Very funny. You got me." So we shared a good laugh and the rest of the night guys were laughing about it. All in good humor.
The next day Ken walked up to me with a pair of scissors and a sheet and said, "You ready?" I said, "Sure." then sat down and let him cut my hair. Ken was my barber, not the best we had but he was cheap and I wasn't that particular about my hair. Nor did I pay attention to when my hair got long, so Ken would let me know when I needed a cut, which I always appreciated. So this was a normal event for us that I didn't give a second thought. As was my habit I kept telling him to hurry up as he cut my hair and as was his habit he ignored me and took his time. When he was done I thanked him, complained about how slow he was and paid him. The first guy I passed after the hair cut looked at me funny. The next guy laughed. This caused me to find a mirror. Ken had given me a creatively horrible hair cut. He'd gotten even with me and somehow done it with a straight face. Every time guys told that story, which they did often, I was the dummy.
Such is life in the Big House.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Soccer Day
Before the game I heard one regular player say that he wasn't going to play because it was too hot. The guy saying this is a Haitian, so I said, "Really, its too hot for a Haitian. I've never been to Haiti, but I've been to Florida so I know it's hot in Florida. Cuba's south of Florida and I hear it's pretty hot there too. But Haiti is even further south so it has to be hot there. So how can Pennsylvania be too hot for a Haitian?" The guy hung his head and said something about his back hurting so I mentioned that I was sixty years old and I was going out, which was all it took to get him to change his mind and agree to play. One thing about these Latin American men, its easy to play the "macho man card" on them.
The prison I am in is a "Special Management Unit", which means they keep guys who have done bad things locked in a cell for 23 hours a day. The prison has a small "Cadre" of high security prisoners who are here to do our time as oppose to being here for punishment, so we are only locked down at night. Which is why I am able to play soccer and softball and able to go to the art room. This is good for us in that the fewer convicts the fewer problems. The down side is that we often don't have enough guys to play organized sports. So when a few guys decide not to play soccer there is a good chance the game will be canceled due to lack of players. This is why I had to play the macho man card to get the Haitian to play.
I recently learned that a soccer field is actually called a pitch. Odd but that's the name. So the Haitian manned up and came out so we had a full team. Good game. One of the Jamaicans pulled a first and played barefoot. The pitch is good grass, but the problem with going barefoot is that everyone else wears cleats. It turned out to be a smart move as he moved faster than ever before and every opponent he encountered was aware of his bare feet so were careful around him. He had a great game. I asked why he played barefoot and he said that's how he played growing up in Jamaica. It was an interesting lesson. I played goalie the entire game, which I was fine with do to the heat. Soccer is a great workout for me.
Today I made arrangements to start playing racquetball regularly with my buddy, the former soldier. Without softball all the exercise I get is the two days of soccer and feel like I can handle more. Racquetball is a fast game with just the right amount of movement that I get a good workout but don't have to push to exhaustion. I could walk the track or even jog, but I know I won't keep that up. A competitive sport is a different matter. That I will do and push myself, so I'm looking forward to playing racquetball twice a week.
The prison I am in is a "Special Management Unit", which means they keep guys who have done bad things locked in a cell for 23 hours a day. The prison has a small "Cadre" of high security prisoners who are here to do our time as oppose to being here for punishment, so we are only locked down at night. Which is why I am able to play soccer and softball and able to go to the art room. This is good for us in that the fewer convicts the fewer problems. The down side is that we often don't have enough guys to play organized sports. So when a few guys decide not to play soccer there is a good chance the game will be canceled due to lack of players. This is why I had to play the macho man card to get the Haitian to play.
I recently learned that a soccer field is actually called a pitch. Odd but that's the name. So the Haitian manned up and came out so we had a full team. Good game. One of the Jamaicans pulled a first and played barefoot. The pitch is good grass, but the problem with going barefoot is that everyone else wears cleats. It turned out to be a smart move as he moved faster than ever before and every opponent he encountered was aware of his bare feet so were careful around him. He had a great game. I asked why he played barefoot and he said that's how he played growing up in Jamaica. It was an interesting lesson. I played goalie the entire game, which I was fine with do to the heat. Soccer is a great workout for me.
Today I made arrangements to start playing racquetball regularly with my buddy, the former soldier. Without softball all the exercise I get is the two days of soccer and feel like I can handle more. Racquetball is a fast game with just the right amount of movement that I get a good workout but don't have to push to exhaustion. I could walk the track or even jog, but I know I won't keep that up. A competitive sport is a different matter. That I will do and push myself, so I'm looking forward to playing racquetball twice a week.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Emotional Dad
I can be emotional. It is rare that this side of me manifest, but it did tonight while talking to Hope. Her and Joshua were home from the hospital and doing fine. I was always a mess when Mary had our babies but I tried to hide it to put on a strong front for her. I didn't fool her. I try to put on a brave front with my daughters, and that works most of the time because I am not there with them. But with Hope on the phone tonight I failed and she saw how soft I really am.
We have a bank of four telephones in the cell block, all lined up ten inches apart against the wall in the busiest part of the block. There is little privacy when on the phone. So it's not considered "manly" to cry on the phone, yet that is what I did while talking to Hope. Of course when I started crying she did too, which didn't help. I couldn't help it. It was a combination of going from worried to relieved and just how happy I was for Hope and how proud I was of her. It was all too much for me so I couldn't help myself.
Some tough guy I am.
I am in awe of women. The process of having a baby amazes me and puts me in awe of the women who do it. It is such a painfully horrible ordeal, yet women from the beginning of time have had babies. They didn't use to have a choice in the matter, but today they do. A woman can avoid getting pregnant, and even if she does she can avoid having a baby. Yet women everywhere choose to have babies. Just like the women who came before them, modern women choose to endure the worry and pain and they choose to devote themselves to the care of that little one for many years. Every person alive on this planet is here because of the strength and courage of a woman. I am in awe of the strength and courage of women. And I am exceedingly proud of my wife and our five daughters for the courage they displayed when they brought life into this world.
I going to stop here before I start crying in the computer room. Guys are already beginning to talk. Lord help if they figured out what I was all mushy over.
We have a bank of four telephones in the cell block, all lined up ten inches apart against the wall in the busiest part of the block. There is little privacy when on the phone. So it's not considered "manly" to cry on the phone, yet that is what I did while talking to Hope. Of course when I started crying she did too, which didn't help. I couldn't help it. It was a combination of going from worried to relieved and just how happy I was for Hope and how proud I was of her. It was all too much for me so I couldn't help myself.
Some tough guy I am.
I am in awe of women. The process of having a baby amazes me and puts me in awe of the women who do it. It is such a painfully horrible ordeal, yet women from the beginning of time have had babies. They didn't use to have a choice in the matter, but today they do. A woman can avoid getting pregnant, and even if she does she can avoid having a baby. Yet women everywhere choose to have babies. Just like the women who came before them, modern women choose to endure the worry and pain and they choose to devote themselves to the care of that little one for many years. Every person alive on this planet is here because of the strength and courage of a woman. I am in awe of the strength and courage of women. And I am exceedingly proud of my wife and our five daughters for the courage they displayed when they brought life into this world.
I going to stop here before I start crying in the computer room. Guys are already beginning to talk. Lord help if they figured out what I was all mushy over.
Friday, August 12, 2016
Wild Life
The United States Penitentiary at Lewisburg is an interesting place for wild life. Like all such places we have a healthy population of pigeons, but we also have regular visits from a couple of hawks. The hawks are interesting to watch but they make life rough on the pigeons. We also have as a regular a very large snow owl, which is a beautiful bird. There are a number of smaller birds to be found, the largest population of which is the starling. We also have the occasional lost goose and duck that will drop in for a few days. As a bird lover I enjoy watching them.
On the ground the most prevalent animals are wild cats. We also have a healthy population of ground hogs that live on the grounds and fairly regular visits by a skunk or two. I do not exaggerate when I say these cats are wild. Lewisburg was built in the 1930's so it has an interesting building. The design provides the cats places to hide and breed. And breed they do. I've watched generations of cats come and go. The staff use live traps to capture them, but there are so many of them that I bet every barn within fifty miles of here is protected by a feral Big House Cat.
Despite the age and size of this place the rarest sighting are the things you don't want to see, like rats, mice, and cock roaches. I've never seen a rat here. I've only seen a few mice, and that was rare. I've seen exactly two roaches here. I know they work hard to keep the pest out, but I am always surprised at how well they succeed.
My least favorite time here is winter, when it always seems a new litter of cats shows up. Inevitably a kitten or two will make her way from the basement where she was born into the weight room and art room. The kittens will enter these spaces at night when no one is there then be surprised when men rush in the next day. Every year these kittens climb up into the exposed pipes and there they stay. The real problem with this, at least for us, is that heating pipes are up there and before the day is over one of those cute little kittens will pee on that hot pipe. You have to experience this smell to appreciate it.
The ground hogs dig their holes on the opposite side of fences were inmates roam. Some how they understand they are safer there. I have no doubt that we have guys here that would eat them if caught. Some guys feed apples to the ground hogs. We used to have a guy called "the Ground Hog Whisper" because of how he'd trained a few of the young ones. Skunks roam much like the cats do. It's not uncommon to see a skunk eating its dinner where the cats dine, but it is clear that the skunk is the alpha. The cats give them a wide birth.
Pigeons are everywhere. There is a window ledge on an inner court yard where every year a single pigeon pair will set up a nest and lay two eggs. This is an interesting spot in that every time I go anywhere out of the cell block I pass this spot. Because I am able to walk up to the glass without disturbing the birds I am able to watch the baby birds from a foot away. Every year I enjoy watching the birds grow and fly away from there.
Until arriving here I had never witnessed how pigeons flock and fly together for protection when a predator arrives. I see it here often and am always fascinated by the spectacle.
We also have the occasional small flock of geese or duck land on the yard. We once had two ducks that spent several days in a large puddle left by a heavy rain. I thought those ducks were going to end up in the microwave as two Vietnamese guys were pretty serious about catching them. I think the ducks got away, but I was never really sure.
For years I had heard guys talking about a giant white owl roaming our grounds but I had begun to discount this. Most of the guys here are from the city so know nothing about things like owls. Then one night I saw the fellow myself. It was early morning and I couldn't sleep so I was pacing my cell. At one point I looked up and out the window and there was the owl. He was on the roof of the next cell block over, but so large as to seem anything but real. It was most definitely a snow owl. I'd seen snow owls before, but never one half this large. My window is set high on the cell wall so I stood on my chair to get a better look. The instant my face appeared in the window the big owl spotted me and put its big eyes on me. Not wanting it to fly away I stood still. It watched me for a minute then continued its careful search of the ground thirty feet below for something to eat. I watched it for five minutes until something drew the big bird's attention. It's body went tight, then it leaned forward and seemed to fall off the roof, then it's wings caught air and it flew with fluid grace. Its prey was below me so I couldn't see what it had killed. I watched for some time for it to fly off the ground but I never saw it leave.
That snow owl was the most beautiful bird I have ever seen. He was also the most lethal looking flying predator I have ever seen. That was five years ago and I look for him every night now, but haven't seen him since.
On the ground the most prevalent animals are wild cats. We also have a healthy population of ground hogs that live on the grounds and fairly regular visits by a skunk or two. I do not exaggerate when I say these cats are wild. Lewisburg was built in the 1930's so it has an interesting building. The design provides the cats places to hide and breed. And breed they do. I've watched generations of cats come and go. The staff use live traps to capture them, but there are so many of them that I bet every barn within fifty miles of here is protected by a feral Big House Cat.
Despite the age and size of this place the rarest sighting are the things you don't want to see, like rats, mice, and cock roaches. I've never seen a rat here. I've only seen a few mice, and that was rare. I've seen exactly two roaches here. I know they work hard to keep the pest out, but I am always surprised at how well they succeed.
My least favorite time here is winter, when it always seems a new litter of cats shows up. Inevitably a kitten or two will make her way from the basement where she was born into the weight room and art room. The kittens will enter these spaces at night when no one is there then be surprised when men rush in the next day. Every year these kittens climb up into the exposed pipes and there they stay. The real problem with this, at least for us, is that heating pipes are up there and before the day is over one of those cute little kittens will pee on that hot pipe. You have to experience this smell to appreciate it.
The ground hogs dig their holes on the opposite side of fences were inmates roam. Some how they understand they are safer there. I have no doubt that we have guys here that would eat them if caught. Some guys feed apples to the ground hogs. We used to have a guy called "the Ground Hog Whisper" because of how he'd trained a few of the young ones. Skunks roam much like the cats do. It's not uncommon to see a skunk eating its dinner where the cats dine, but it is clear that the skunk is the alpha. The cats give them a wide birth.
Pigeons are everywhere. There is a window ledge on an inner court yard where every year a single pigeon pair will set up a nest and lay two eggs. This is an interesting spot in that every time I go anywhere out of the cell block I pass this spot. Because I am able to walk up to the glass without disturbing the birds I am able to watch the baby birds from a foot away. Every year I enjoy watching the birds grow and fly away from there.
Until arriving here I had never witnessed how pigeons flock and fly together for protection when a predator arrives. I see it here often and am always fascinated by the spectacle.
We also have the occasional small flock of geese or duck land on the yard. We once had two ducks that spent several days in a large puddle left by a heavy rain. I thought those ducks were going to end up in the microwave as two Vietnamese guys were pretty serious about catching them. I think the ducks got away, but I was never really sure.
For years I had heard guys talking about a giant white owl roaming our grounds but I had begun to discount this. Most of the guys here are from the city so know nothing about things like owls. Then one night I saw the fellow myself. It was early morning and I couldn't sleep so I was pacing my cell. At one point I looked up and out the window and there was the owl. He was on the roof of the next cell block over, but so large as to seem anything but real. It was most definitely a snow owl. I'd seen snow owls before, but never one half this large. My window is set high on the cell wall so I stood on my chair to get a better look. The instant my face appeared in the window the big owl spotted me and put its big eyes on me. Not wanting it to fly away I stood still. It watched me for a minute then continued its careful search of the ground thirty feet below for something to eat. I watched it for five minutes until something drew the big bird's attention. It's body went tight, then it leaned forward and seemed to fall off the roof, then it's wings caught air and it flew with fluid grace. Its prey was below me so I couldn't see what it had killed. I watched for some time for it to fly off the ground but I never saw it leave.
That snow owl was the most beautiful bird I have ever seen. He was also the most lethal looking flying predator I have ever seen. That was five years ago and I look for him every night now, but haven't seen him since.
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