I can’t remember, ever, it raining in this part of California at the end of June. But we had rain. Get-out-the-cubit-measure rain. The horses were confused. How did we go from a dry 90 degrees to a complete drenching? All the horses who were just bathed took great pleasure rolling in the mud.
Pouring or not, the dog still needed a walk. Out we trooped. My first thought, upon seeing this on the lawn, was “Huh. We don’t have red birds in California.”
I went closer to investigate, and saw an equally dark flash of red scuttle across the sidewalk. I look around, carefully. There are dozens. Apparently our skies were sufficiently swampy enough to allow them to pack their claws, and head out on an exotic odyssey into the sky world, that is usually Not Wet.
Refreshing, if you’re a crawdad.
When I realized it was not a bird, and went from the front to take a photo, I got the big Don’t Even THINK About it stance:
Please notify Central Casting: their Swamp Thing has wandered onto my lawn…