It has been already five months since the black swifts cast their dark magic upon me. For three years, I successfully kept the passenger at bay, enjoying the many aspects of life at college. I even began to court a young woman. Things were going well. Then, there were the black swifts. Spawned in moss covered fortresses of water and rock, these witches are deployed for one purpose: to intoxicate helpless birders with their black spells. Relationships are damaged, funds drained, and friends begin to think you’re a sociopath.
In the words of Neil, “we’re a different subspecies, with distinctly different vocalizations.” When we’re dealing with different vocalizations, a split is always pending. How do we reconcile our dark passenger? What is birding? Just an accumulation of experiences? Is life meaningless?
But birding is the only way we know how to live.
For that reason, all we can do is bird on.
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None can resist the dark forces delivered by these sinister swifts. Bird on.
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