The Chief

I was cooking Red River this morning when I decided to have a gander at the River Irwell. As I looked I noticed something different about it. A piece of driftwood was caught up in the flow and some of it was sticking out of the river. And standing upon that piece was a rather large bird.

I was originally drawn to the window because a gang of birds had made a racket last night, which woke me up. I heard at least 10 different squawks from what sounded like a meeting of some sort. I went to see what all the fuss was about. But by morning, all who was left was the bird on the driftwood.

The bird stood there, beak in the air, white breast puffed out, looking proud, the feet clinging to the little piece of wood that stuck maybe half-a-foot out of the water. It was quite a perilous perch.

What the bird was doing there was beyond me. He or she wasn't hunting or pruning but just standing there as the river rushed passed. He or she was also unaware how ridiculous it looked.

It looked as strange as if you or I decided to stand there - and look proud of it.

Sometime during breakfast the bird flew or swam away. Maybe he or she was board. Birds always look board. They always stand around doing nothing or fly around capriciously, with no purpose but to taunt humans with their ability.

That would explain the haughty look, I suppose.

Then something struck me: The bird's majestic air must be because he or she is a chief or mayor or something. I realized this bird must be responsible for the loud meetings that wake me up every morning at 3 a.m.

I finished breakfast and looked up to see most of the driftwood had submerged, except for a tiny piece.

This is no ordinary bird, I thought. He or she will prove a formidable enemy.