In flight you never really look up. When you're on the ground, you look up all the time, especially if you are a chicken. Or a glider pilot. Hawks circle, up there. Clouds develop promisingly. We both thermal up. Rooster glances up again and again, head on a swivel. Flicker, hitch, threat, turn of a wing against the sky. For him, a chicken's death glides up there with sudden impact, talons raking. With a throaty warning, the flock freezes instantly, lucky ones already under cover.
Shadow Bomb
Shadow Bomb
Shadow Bomb
In flight you never really look up. When you're on the ground, you look up all the time, especially if you are a chicken. Or a glider pilot. Hawks circle, up there. Clouds develop promisingly. We both thermal up. Rooster glances up again and again, head on a swivel. Flicker, hitch, threat, turn of a wing against the sky. For him, a chicken's death glides up there with sudden impact, talons raking. With a throaty warning, the flock freezes instantly, lucky ones already under cover.