Guadalupe Caracara

Without a museum you will never know if it’s the last.  The ritual equated
wing with weapon (falling).  Unless you can survey everything you will never
know the end.  A bird is not a triangle, closed.  A rare species always
attracts a man against all odds, in waders, with, of course, a camera.
A black swan is always a metaphor, no more powerful than a white crow,
except for the facts, how the world turns out.  A villager is reported
as saying, “At least somebody still believes that.  I’ve heard other, simpler,
people do.”  Herding is letting something grow back.  You can represent it
systematically.  You can hang each feathered thing on a tree.  They have
eaten the kids, goats, that is.  Didn’t mean to scare you.  You are not in
danger; the species was endangered before they were all killed.  That damned
thing uprooted the ancestry of movement on this island.  No, the circle is not
his egg.  He was the imbalance, not us.  We poisoned his wells.  “Only 19 specimens
of this distinct form have been preserved.  There are three in this museum.”