Teton and I heard a horrible screeching as we passed the garden. At first I thought it was a wounded dog, but the screech was just a bit too airy. We followed the garden path and saw a hawk on the gate. He was full of fury and defiance as he stared at the flock of crows that had him cornered. Evidence of his crime lay at his feet - the feathers of one poor sparrow that will no longer hide amid the rudbeccia and bathe in the waterfall.

Teton scattered the angry mob, and by the time my camera adjusted to the grey backlight, the crows were scolding us from in the pines and the hawk had disappeared into the woods. If only my camera worked the way our eyes do. What photos I would have for my weblog.

I shot some photos of the garden and watched the thin wisps of dark clouds gather strength. I tried getting pictures of the crows, but they are too busy to pose for me. Perhaps next time I'll bring some crow food and a blind. Eventually, they responded to the call of their brethren across the fields and flew away. Teton and I watched their black silhouettes disappear against the grey sky as the storm clouds rolled in.

As I watched them disappear, I couldn't help but think that "Stormcrow" would be a fantastic last name. Timothy Stormcrow. Better yet, change both my names and be "Baltasar Stormcrow". Better still that it was Gandalf's nickname.