I love my feet. Look at them! So strong, so beautiful. Unlike other hawks, I have a reversible toe and barbed pads on the the soles of my feet to help me keep tight hold of slippery fish.
They don’t even see me coming, I’m so fast, so quiet. But I see them, swimming around, unaware Death is coming. I drop like a rock at speeds that make the wind whistle in my ear, legs outstretched, claws extended and shining in the sun.
I plunge into the water, grasping, gripping, claws sinking into their tasty flesh. Then I’m up and out, water streaming, back in the clean air, already imagining ripping into their silver sides to tear off a piece and feast. I fly with the fish head-first for less wind-resistance.
I’m not only beautiful, I’m smart. I am a perfect fish-catching machine. I am successful about half the time and sometimes more often than that. I catch one, on average, in twelve minutes.
I love my feet. They’re strong and beauti–
What are you looking at, human? You’re big and noisy, and your feet are not beautiful. I’ve seen you fishing with a long stick and laughed. Sometimes you sit there all day and catch nothing. Too bad you don’t have my barbed pads and sharp, shiny claws.
I am not afraid of you.
Be glad you’re not a fish.
Genre: Total fantasy
Word count: not many