Where the Yellow-Crowned Night-Herons roam

As a way to clear my mind of some sudden misfortune in my family’s life circumstance I had gone to Morningside Park a few days ago to jog around its dirt path. I remember when just after Wilma had hit the large Banyan trees had fallen like dead soldiers on the ground. Like toppled totems, they had lay in rows, defeated with branches and leaves smooshed on the beautiful park’s lawn. That night of my jog there were smaller totems that stuck out of the ground. Yellow-Crowned Night-Herons have made this their private park in the after-hours. Like an Indian prince turned to a bird by a witch’s spell, they boast one royal yellow feather atop their jet black head streaked with a solid paint stroke of white underneath their red scotopic eyes. The “No Trespassing After Sunset” sign doesn’t adhere to the avian world.

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