It is so beautiful today that I feel drawn by my terrace. The last time I walked out and stared in awe at the Mirna valley below, I saw movement in one of the trees just behind Nada Tarandek’s garden. It was a wing, I thought. And a pretty large one. Yes, there was a hefty bird perched on one of the branches. I made a few steps along the parapet of the terrace to see it better, but it did not enjoy my attention. It hopped off the branch and sailed away. Indeed, it was a large bird of prey—an eagle or falcon or kite. Brownish in color, it matched the color of the tree so well that I could only guess its contours before it took to wing. At any rate, I was overcome by something very like envy at once. And not for the first time. No house. No fleece. No pension. Way beyond my reach, the lucky bird. Its only concern is the next meal. Shucks, I must have distracted it while it was stalking its prey. Perhaps a kitten, of which there are many just beyond Nada’s house.