"James Van Pelt - A Flock Of Birds" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pelt James Van)

A Flock of Birds
by James Van Pelt

The starlings wheeled like a giant blanket flung into the sky, like sentient
smoke, banking and turning in unison. They passed overhead so close that
Carson heard their wings ripping the air, and when the flock flew in front of
the sun, the world grew gray. Carson shivered even though it was only early
September and warm enough for a short-sleeved shirt. This close he could smell
them, all dark-feathered and frantic and dry and biting.
He estimated maybe 50,000 birds. Not the largest flock he'd seen this year,
but one of the bigger ones, and certainly bigger than anything he'd seen last
year. Of course, the summer before that he didn't watch the birds. No one did.
No chance to add to his life list that year. No winter count either. The
Colorado Field Ornithology office closed.
He leaned back in his lawn chair. The bird vortex moved east, over the
wheat-grass plain until the sun brightened again, pressing pleasant heat
against the back of his hands and arms. He was glad for the hat that protected
his head and its middle-aged bald spot. This wasn't the time to mess with skin
cancer, he thought, not a good time at all. He was glad his teeth were
generally healthy and his eyesight was keen.
The binoculars were excellent, Bausch & Lomb Elite. Wide field of vision. Top
notch optics. Treated lenses. He'd picked them up from a sporting goods store
in Littleton's South Glenn Mall. Through them the birds became singular. He
followed discrete groups. They swirled, coming straight toward him for a
moment, then sliding away. Slowly he scanned the flight until he reached the
leading edge. Birds on one half and sky on the other. They switched direction
and the leaders became the followers. He took the binoculars away and blinked
at their loss of individuality. In the middle, where the birds were thickest,
the shape was black, a sinuous, twisting dark chord. One dot separated itself
from the others, flying against the current. Carson only saw it for a second,
but it was distinctly larger than the starlings, and its wing beat was
different. He focused the binoculars again, his breath coming fast, and
scanned the flock. It would be unusual for a single bird of a different
species to fly with the starlings.
Nothing for several minutes other than the hordes streaming by, then the
strange bird emerged. Long, slender wings, a reddish breast, and it was fast.
Much faster than the starlings and twice their size. The cloud shifted,
swallowing it, as the entire flock drifted slowly east, farther into the
plains.
The bird looked familiar. Not one from his journals, but one he'd seen a
picture of before. Something tropical perhaps that had drifted north? Every
once in a while a single representative of a species would be spotted,
hundreds, sometimes thousands of miles from where it was normally found. The
birder who saw it could only hope that someone else confirmed the sighting or
that he got a picture, otherwise it would be discounted and couldn't be
legitimately added to a life list. If he could add a new bird to his list,
maybe that would make things better. A new bird! He could concentrate on that.
Something good to cling to.
The flock grew small in the distance.
Carson sighed, put the binoculars back in their case, then packed the rest of