The insomnia gnomes reared their ugly little bestockinged heads again, so this morning I got to an early start. While I don’t love not sleeping, I do love observing this little town in the wee hours, just as it’s waking up. Especially on the empty downtown strip. There’s such an air of expectancy, of waiting; it’s as if the pavement has absorbed the energy from the thousands of people who walk it during the day, and stores it up carefully to warm itself during the evening hours. It’s a far cry from walking about in, say, a dead urban area, in which not even the ghosts of past pedestrians linger.

So I was walking along, generally of cheerful disposition (despite the lack of sleep and the slight headache from last night’s bourbon), when I came across the most terrifying tree I have ever yet encountered in my travels.

A pale rendition of the subject in question. The actual thing can be seen at the corner of 9th and Kentucky, in front of the old Lawrence Arts Center.

I noticed the bird first, and faded fears of avian flu quickly revived. The flu fears dissipated, however, when I looked up at the sprawling gorgon of a tree crouching eagerly over its fresh kill. Clearly, the bird had not died of natural causes (and I shall not count murder by tree as something that generally occurs in nature).

Now, as I have discussed previously at great length, I am no fan of birds. I generally cheer their demise. Still, I found I could not quite root for the tree on this battle.