Falconry and Bagged Bread

“So, uh, T, what’s that on your arm there?” asked the perplexed Maria.  They were ten minutes into their lunch break, enjoying the sun and fresh air of a summer’s day.  The arm could no longer be ignored.

“Pretty sick, huh? I took up falconry,” Theodore, aka T, replied.  He raised his arm to reveal a wide leather glove in all its glory.

Maria set aside her sandwich, a pastrami on rye she had been looking forward to all day.  Most workdays were identical; check a database, make a call, repeat.  The sudden appearance of falconry was a welcome surprise.

“Tell me more,” Maria demanded.

“Check this out,” T said.  He emitted a noise somewhere between a whistle and the sound a dog makes when its tail is stepped on.

Almost as soon as the sound ended, a dot in the sky began to grow larger.  It drew closer and closer and Maria could not believe her eyes.  From nowhere, a falcon appeared.  The majestic bird landed on T’s outstretched arm.  Maria would have been in awe of the moment if not for the half loaf of bagged bread hanging from the creature’s beak.

“What’s the bread bag about?” Maria asked.

“The falcon likes to feed ducks,” T answered as he fed the falcon a bit of pastrami that had fallen from Maria’s sandwich onto the table.

Maria watched the bird eat the cured meat in bewilderment.

“I am so ready for the weekend,” she mumbled before leaving the table.

 

 

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