Larry David the bald eagle, that is, not Larry David the bald…baldy.
While I was pursuing this eagle, I trod in a pothole that contained a puddle — a deep enough puddle to fill my shoe to the brim, and splash my trouserleg. Several passers-by laughed, chortled, or giggled, leading me to wonder why, as they were clearly watching my progress, none of them thought to sound the warning. The real Larry David might’ve appreciated that.
It’s becoming rather frustrating, this pursuit of eagles. They like to stay high in the sky. It’s hard to watch the eagle and watch one’s step, at the same time. And one can end up walking farther than intended. I haven’t managed to get lost yet, but I probably will, if I carry on this way.
In other news, there were six cormorants on the perch across the water, today, but no cormorants on my side.
