Actually, they’re already here, at least two of them, over down there by Camp Smith. The other morning, one, a juvenile I think, was wheeling low over the water where you cross the Jan Peek Bridge. Stopped at the light, I looked around for others and saw a burly, white-headed grownup perched on a tree on the slope just above the road, so that it was about fifty feet over the crowd of cars stopped three ways at the light. As far as I could see, I was the only driver craning my neck forward and up, and the otherwise secret juxtaposition of the mighty symbol of American dominance with the scrum of commuters wishing they didn’t have to go contribute to the wellbeing of the homeland this one day, was funny.
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