It is speedier than Speedy Gonzales, more wily than the Wile E Coyote. It waits and watches in plain sight, Ninja like invisible to the eye.
In a flash it seizes its chance and swoops from the skies. It clasps it in its deceptively small beak and flies away with the prize.
The target is the sparkling sphere, the dimpled delight, the prized golf ball that whizzes across the fairway and comes to a halt.
There is really never time to crow over that magnificent shot, for one moment the ball lies on the emerald green and the next moment it is lost.
Do I hear a crescendo of caws?
It is a round played to perfection, run out of numbers, success that many times.
Cheers to a well deserved spot on the pedestal, an ode to the antics of this force.
Now that’s something to crow over on the golf course.