Stuff bothers me.
Like can you really get 20 clowns in a Volkswagen, and how can the radio in my car snatch invisible signals out of thin air and turn it into a song? Why does smoke from a firepit always know where I’m sitting and go that way and can woolly worms really predict cold winters or are they just guessing?
That brings me to a flock of blackbirds.
I saw a big ball of blackbirds yesterday bouncing around in the sky, going here and there, this way and that way. Must have been a thousand of them. It was like a giant blob playing Donkey Kong. But suddenly, the entire ball turned and made a beeline to settle in a small patch of woods.
What bothers me about all this is how did they know where and when to go? Did one bird out of the thousand make the call?
“Okay guys, we’re not going to fly in a big ball anymore. We’re going to swoop down and land in those trees over there. Okay, everybody, on three…,”
And off they went.
What would happen if that one bird couldn’t make up its mind? Would they just fly in a big ball forever and ever until they all keeled over and died, or what if one bird said, “Screw you. You can’t speak for all the rest of us. We don’t like where you’re taking us. We’re flying to those trees over there.”
Like I said, some stuff bothers me.