They Flew In Perfect Synchronization

There is a flock of crows that lives near where I work. In the early morning and early, dusky evening they fly together over the highway, dipping and wheeling in perfect harmony, like a long-rehearsed ballet.



There are hundreds of them. They fly very close together. But they never touch. When one turns, they all turn in perfect rhythm. It's quite beautiful to watch.



I was watching them last night as I sat in traffic. The sky was pinky navy as the sun went down and they flew overhead, back and forth over the cars lined up. Why can't people work in harmony like that? Why do we have to run into and run over the people around us?



And then I wondered. Because this is how my brain jumps around like a caged, rabid squirrel. Why aren't they dropping loads of bird poo on all the cars? Are they too busy concentrating on flying, on not letting their wing feathers brush against the bird flying inches away from them?



And in the middle of all this philosophical musing, I heard a splat. Then a sploosh. Then a big splonk on my windshield.



And I realized. Even in the midst of their concentration of their perfectly choreographed flights.



They still have time to poo on our cars.



And. I'm done with philosophy for now.