Before the storm

As I drove down Hicks Valley Road at dusk, three flocks of starlings converged over me, accompanied by the first drops of rain falling on my car roof. It was astounding to see hundreds of starlings murmurate overhead. I stopped my car right in the middle of the road to watch them pulse and bend and weave a dark curtain overhead. The bursting of their wings as they moved in unison was like ocean waves, or a gust of roaring wind in the pines. I thought: wow, such big drops of rain, the beginning of the storm. Only in this case, I found out it was a shitstorm. Literally. My car was splattered in birdshit, as if the storm clouds had taken up fingerpainting on my windshield.