Night Watches

Things were plenty strange last night. First there were two largish birds, squawky and quarrelsome, circling in the dark, fighting over the chance to break our Windex (the instrument at the top of the mast that indicates wind direction) by sitting on it. They eventually succeeded. We can’t figure out whether they were sent by Derry, or Mission Impossible.
Then there was the writing in the sky – small clouds that formed into words and then reformed. The message seemed to be :elephant:stopover:food:rancid: – which surely doesn’t bode well for a vessel about to cross the doldrums? THen the most beautiful sunrise behind an almost imaginary island, and a swallow perched on the forestay. Is it because we’re in stealth mode that everything is so strange?

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