Kerfuffle at the end of the world

Stepping outside was like stepping out of a tent on a camping trip first thing in the morning.

There was a profound stillness and a chill that bit.

It was also overcast.

Despite this, we encountered twenty-five to thirty crows.

With three gulls circling off in the distance.

The lighting was gloomy, almost otherworldly at first.

Golden hour? Didn’t feel like it.

It felt more … apocalyptic.

But it soon, well, not exactly brightened up, but turned less … doomsday?

Every time the peanuts went down, the crowd went wild and screamed.

And flapped.

I really hope the recording turns out.

The flowers were far more sedate.

Audibly, anyway.

And then my morning coffee ritual.

Followed by a Mexican standoff that I did not expect.

The crow didn’t fly away this time, but the squirrel still thieved a peanut.