At one corner of the hospital parking lot rose a twenty-foot pole. Atop it was mounted a seldom used light. When an Emergency Assistance button was pressed, an intercom activated and the blue light flashed.
A falcon liked to perch on the pole.
The falcon used the high place to watch for its prey: pigeons that gathered in the hospital parking lot. Weak or injured birds had little chance.
Every so often hospital visitors or employees crossing the parking lot would look up and notice the falcon. They’d admire its powerful form, and its dark, intense, searching eyes. “What a majestic bird.”
They weren’t wrong. The falcon was majestic. It was well fed and healthy. Its sleek beauty was perfectly suited for survival.
Whenever a pile of feathers appeared near the hospital, people complained, and the Housekeeping Department would quickly head outside to clean up the mess. They wore gloves and were careful to use a biohazard bag.
“Poor bird,” one nurse commented to another nurse, looking down at more torn feathers in the parking lot.
“Looks healthy to me,” replied the second nurse, gazing at the falcon atop the pole.
Eyes down, stepping carefully to avoid blood, the first nurse sighed.
Practically everyone at the hospital who observed the falcon fell in love with it.
One day, after another bloody mess, Hospital Mainenance rented a cherry picker and placed anti-roosting spikes on the blue Emergency Assistance light.
The falcon was not seen again.
Short Stories by Richard 