The stork.

   By now, my sweat has already dampened the running tee under my jacket. My breaths came out long and hard, the result of 30 minutes of a good pace. I've ran many roads here in my small town, but somehow, this road always appeases to me best. The way that it stretches for 3 kilometres straight to another small town and is lined by an abundance of trees and fields always keeps me coming back to it. Like a beckoning lover. Up ahead, a cleared straw field draws up, freshly cut and trimmed. My nose twitches to the light smell of diesel.

  I've seen this field dozens of times on my runs, but it was a little different this time, cleared and more watery than usual. Highlighted white among the yellowing fields, there it stood. Well stood wasn't really the right word, there it... leaned. Waddling around in the watery grass, ocassionally pecking away at the mud by stretching it's already more-than-stellar neck, a stork.  Not that I've never seen a stork before, just not one this close. I thought about stopping to admire it for awhile, but I didn't want to risk losing the Endorphins already pumping hard in my veins. So I ran on.

  I always have this funny habit of reaching this certain sign in town to before I turn back. After completing my quirky little ritual, I finally turned back for the return run, relaxed and satisfied. Needless to say, I came across the already yellower fields of cut grass. To my surprise, my acquaintence still stood there, pecking away aimlessly at the ground, clumsily waddling around with it's pinkish legs. It must've been at it for the full 45 minutes I was gone, seeing as how no other storks were squelching around.

  This time however, I couldn't help but slow down into an eventual stop and look at it. With the loud music blaring from my Walkman, I could've sworn I perked it's interests. It tilted it's head, just enough to set it's coffee-black eyes on me for a moment. Sensing this lanky young man was no danger, it went back to it's aimless pecking and waddling around in the already reeking muddish grass. And I just stood there, at the side of a bicycle lane, looking at it. 


  In many ways, this bird reminds me a lot about myself. Butt-ugly as it is, it could never match up to the fabled Birds of Paradise with their dazzling plumage and intricate mating rituals. It isn't exactly agile and graceful like the magestic Bald Eagle either, seeing as how it has been practically rolling around in marshy-filth just managing for it's next meal. But one thing about it does strike me about myself though, it's patient as fuck masticating around in that muddy crap, and doesn't really give a crap about whose watching him doing that. That's about the only thing I can hold to myself in this ever-competitive world.

  Not to mention my legs are just a tad bit fatter than it's, and that's just me being positive. That's gotta count for some points on our relativity chart. Not wanting to look like some hillbilly hitchhiker, I slowly started up my pace again and made way back home. Because I'm running on a severely-underused bicycle lane, I could spare myself the luxury of looking at it a bit more while I trodded back. Right before my vision was curtained by branches and leaves, I could've sworn that stork pecked a fish right outta of the water. That clumsy storks' gotta eat too.