Omen, Anyone?

Real life, I’ve often thought, is more fascinating than fiction. I’ve never been the superstitious type, really, but something happened the other day that we’ll just say, “was a little weird.”


Sitting in the office, my fellow co-workers and I heard a call come over the radio, “Girls, you all come out to Andrea’s car. Come on – all of you.” Naturally, our first thought, unanimously, “Oh man, what’s happened to Andrea’s (my) car!?” We all scurried out the door but, looking toward my car, couldn’t decide why we’d been summoned, “What in the world?” There didn’t seem to be a thing wrong with my car and there was no one outside. By this time, we began searching for the culprits of an apparent practical joke. I walked toward my car, carefully inspecting as I approached, when I noticed some of the guys at work outside. They pointed our attention to the top of the steeple where we found…

(Just a view of the steeple to give you an idea of how far away the picture was taken.)

That’s right, ladies and gentleman, buzzards (vultures)! Right on the top of the cross at the very tip of the steeple, they were perched like dark ambassadors of doom. To see an idealistic dove, or almost any other foul, would’ve been appropriate and would have given the more typically happy feeling. Let me know what you guys are thinking! Omen, anyone?