Wanderers at the Door

     I can’t exactly claim to live in a gated community here in Florida.

Okay sure, we do have a bar that drops down to prevent a car from entering, but if you’re on foot or on a bike, you can just stroll/roll right in. We do have a hefty wall of trees and bushes ringing the property, in some places so thick that you could actually set up camp inside them. In fact, this may have already happened since a man has been spotted in them, although he may have decided to move up in the world.  

     I say this because we had a bit of excitement at one of our buildings. A resident tucked away in the corner of a third floor opened her front door for her usual 5:30 a.m. run - only to find a man hunkered down next to it. He soon disappeared, but while I’m trying harder to remember to keep our front door locked, I’m also grateful our unit is on the first floor and highly visible from the street.

  

   The only visitor to our front door was this tourist who must have gotten caught in a downpour and was too wet or tired to fly away. At first check we thought he was dead, next check he was flapping one wing, and at the third check he was gone.