The Buzzard Tree

 

I enjoy visits to larger cities. Nothing beats the convenience and selections of shops, restaurants, and the array of entertaining people. Even so, deep down, I’m a small town girl, and I’ve had the pleasure of living in several picturesque places. I love the natural, unmarred scenery. Roads that seemed to go on forever with a mixture of pine trees and live oaks flock the banks. Drives and walks are perfect for touching inner peace, connecting with the universe, or if you’re me, come up with the next chapter of my current WIP.




One of my favorite walks was past this tree. My children dubbed it the buzzard tree because at least five to ten buzzards always occupied the near dead branches. The tree held my fascination. I wondered why the huge birds decided to roost in this particular tree when so many others were available. Whatever the appeal, they liked it. Sadly, a fire claimed much of these beautiful trees a few years ago, and the buzzard tree was destroyed, as well. Even though the buzzard tree no longer exists, I won’t ever forget this odd spectacle. I sometimes ponder where the birds go to rest now their haunt is gone.