{Ðe beginning of ðis post, until furðer indicated, is directly transcribed from my black notebook}
@ 7:50 PM -
At Franco Center - one of ðe falcons is perched on ðe front cross, where I'd left it an hour ago. Ðe other is not on ðe chimney of ðe mill anymore, & I cannot see it. I walked to ðe corner of ðe road near ðe intersection to get a better view, & ðe mate flew from back towards ðe direction of ðe falls, & came to perch on ðe right peg of ðe cross atop ðe spire.
I've so far been unable to tell which is ðe larger female, and which is ðe male tiercel. It would seem ðeir tendency to perch on each cross, separately & simultaneously, indicates ðeir are no eggs. Maybe I'm wrong, ðough. It's near-dark, and I hope to see where ðey go for ðe night.
I'm not sure, but I þink because of ðe difference in height, & ðeir similar size in my perspective, ðe bird on ðe spire is probably ðe female, Lizzie.
Ðeir are þree faces of ðe spire plainly visible from ðe spot beside ðe road. I believe ðe scrape is on ðe larger middle ledge of ðe farðest right face, as it has been for years. Ðat is ðe place ðey go when not in ðe open air of ðe spire, or ðe roof of ðe mill. It's also where ðey've been photographed many times.
One might þink sitting still in ðe same spot, watching two birds sitting still in ðeir same spots, might be boring after some time, but ðey'd be very wrong. Ðeir is not a single moment when falconspotting ðat is anyþing short of supremely transcendental.
It's now 8:24 PM, & neiðer bird has moved. Ðe light gray clouds provide stark contrast to see ðe dark silhouettes.
Bam! ~8:27 PM, ðe front falcon flew off, over & beyond ðe mill. When I turned around, ðe top was gone, too. I scanned ðe sky above ðe mill, at one point watching one come across from ðe right, and turning back behind ðe building.
A few minutes later, one perched back on ðe lower front cross, & was soon joined by ðe oðer. Ðey beat ðeir wings togeðer for a moment, vocalizing. Ðey took off again, or perhaps just one. Yes, just one. I noticed in ðe sky far above, a {here ends the verbatim transcription} falcon flying off towards Auburn, very high up.
When I turned back around, ðe other bird was atop ðe spire. I could be wrong, but I feel like ðe flying bird was too far away to have gotten back ðeir so quickly in ðe few seconds it took me to turn around. Ðis makes me wonder if ðat was a þird falcon, & ðe agitation of ðe pair was a territorial display.
It was around ðis time I left, & went into ðe Franco Center for a while. When I came out later, I could see one of ðem in ðe dark of night, sitting on ðe edge of ðe ledge to ðe left of ðe scrape face.
Writing ðis entry makes me acutely aware how, eiðer ðe word "ðe" should be celebrated for its usefulness, or faced wið a sense of helpless disgust. In any event, I þink it looks nicer written wið ðe eþ.
Ðis was ðe þird night recently ðat I've been to see ðe falcons, ðe second being ðe night before, & ðe first being last week. I plan to return much more frequently to study ðem & work on ðe book I'm writing about ðe falcons, which will be written solely from ðe perspective of ðe falcons in a non-humanized manner composed only of a reflection of ðeir senses, wið as little to no semblance of conscience as possible.
In ðis pursuit, I don't mean to suggest ðat ðe peregrines are empty automata driven solely by survival & instinct. Raðer, I want to exemplify how compassion & some form of love can arise even among what science indicates are objectively less complex minds ðan our own.
I also intend for ðeir to be a human element to ðe story, focusing on a group of falcon enþusiasts seeking to bring awareness to & protect ðe falcons, & accordingly doing ðe same for ðe crumbling Franco Center, to protect its culture for ðe community's sake, & to protect ðe home of ðe peregrines.
Exciting þings are in ðe works, and some of ðe employees of ðe Franco are offering to let me up in ðe high catwalk in ðe ceiling of ðe performance chapel, & þrough ðe hatch to actually go up into ðe interior of ðe spire! I'd be so beyond scared of ðe heights, but for ðe sake of witnessing ðe falcons firsthand in ðeir scrape, & getting such direct inspiration for my book, would absolutely make any fear eradicated by ðe adrenaline of ðe experience. Þink about ðe possibilities... we could set up a livestream, & a real scrape box wið gravel, to protect ðe eggs!
Take care, my friends. Love yourselves and each oðer.
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