My view:
Strolling along a back-street in our local town I became aware that I was being watched. On the opposite side of the road was an old corrugated metal fence in poor condition. It was made from old sheets fixed together and had different paint in different places, all cracked and peeling from years of exposure to the sun and rain. It felt like there were eyes watching me from this fence. I crossed the road for a better look and the feeling became stronger.
Slight movement amongst the chaos of peeling paint layers and rusty patches caught my eye. I bent closer not quite able to discern what I was looking at. Then a small brownish bird showed itself as it hopped to a new perch amongst its weirdly confusing and very flaky habitat. It might have been a finch or sparrow but looked a bit generic, what we used to call LBJs (little brown jobs).
It is strange how the eye can be blinded by something so small. Fixed on the insignificant "sparrinch" I did not notice the larger bird lurking in the very same patch of the very same fence. It was only revealed when a passing motorcyclist beeped his horn. I think it was directed at me but I was not in the way, did not know the rider and was not doing anything anti-social. But perhaps squatting to watch the wildlife living within a fence is actually something worth beeping at to some people. I am used to these minor, probably well-intentioned, intrusions but the crow was not. It burst from its cover, flapping its billowing cloak of wings with a "whooosh...whooosh" and with a flourish of coordinated beats it was soon lost to some more distant urban canvas. I was sorry not to have had a better view before it left but my heart thumped with the delightful shock of its almost violent departure.
I did not notice what happened to the LBJ so I left it to hop around somewhere in its beautifully deteriorating world of corrugated metal not wanting to attract any more disturbance to its peaceful home. I might go looking for it again one day.
The same view once deserted:
The same view from a passing motorcycle (on the third fence panel from the right):
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