A not nice day here as well, although quite warm. I did my usual walk by the river, then returned via Morley's hill. At the crest of the hill there was a huge old raven brazenly strutting in the middle of the road. I approached him, and he showed no concern. Then a car came booting around the corner, and he still continued to boldly scratch in the middle of the street. I shrugged my shoulders at the driver, who had to come to a full stop and then swerve around the belligerent bird.
I wondered how close I could get to the huge bird (man, they're three times the size of a crow, or at least this one was). He didn't flinch when I came within five or six feet of him, and I couldn't detect any signs of injury. He finally finished his lazy strut across the narrow road and into the roadside bushes, where he began picking at a bunch of wild grapes. Aha! I realized. The big bird is drunk on fermented grapes - we eyeballed each other and gave the head shake acknowledgment drinkers all over the world share (I'm referencing Malcolm Lowry's novel "Under The Volcano" here ; )-
Milt and Al
still into wild grapes
no matter the incarnation
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