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Late meeting with woodcock in the desert

At the fork in the trail winding into the village, was forced to stop. In the right Shoe seems to have flown the stone. Take off shoes, turn over… And I can’t shake the feeling that someone was watching my manipulations. Stretch out, look around and… here it is, my secret spy!

In three steps from under the courtines barbed wormwood, without blinking, staring at me round the bird’s eye. Fixed, purple – exactly-in-exactly looming over the horizon of the setting sun… Look closely and under kartinkoi distinguish woodcock. The plumage of the bird blends with the dried tradename, whitish and rusty.

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My sudden movement could startle a woodcock. I look down and quickly walk to white home in the distance.

As in the desert was the forest Kulick?

Stood dry October – the flight time. Weary traveler, apparently, behind the pack and sat down to rest. The first stars – on the road again, to catch up with departed relatives.

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Good that I didn’t inadvertently scare the stragglers Sluka – so in our area called woodcock.

In a foreign country, far from home, family and friends, I often think of the strange look on that lonely, lost in the coastal steppe kulychka.

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