The Holiday Season

I really like holidays where you get to run around naked in the woods although I grant that for this month's solstice you might best try it in, say Patagonia.  We did the best thing, holing up with Itzakh Perlman and Kathleen Battle, and Andreas Scholl.  And the hawks, did I forget to mention the hawks?  Or hawk-like critters: they swooped, they soared, they made lazy circles in the sky and they sat on the rail fence out by the cliff edge, as if in wait for their prey.  Three, no six, no eleven, no fourteen counting three in the air.

Or were they hawks?  About the size of  pheasant and, as I say, hawlike maneuvers.  Heads partly red, but not entirely.  Bits of yellow on the beak.  Some seemed to have white under the wings, but not all.  Maybe condors?

--Those hawks out on the fence, the ones with the red heads.  What kind do you think they are?
--Red?  Red tails?  We have a beer called Red Tail!
--Uh, if they  are red tail, then they have their tails where their heads should be...
--Red Tail Beer!  Red Tail Beer!

[Actually, I think they may have been turkey buzzards.]