He owns his own lawn care business, but he moonlights by taking people out on hunting tours and even helps train hunting dogs, and yesterday he was telling us about a pheasant that used to follow him around in a field that they hunted in. He had penned up all of the pheasants he had caught so that he could let them go a few at a time for the hunters to track and shoot, and in this pen he had also put his little pheasant so that it wouldn't get accidentally shot.
Over the course of a week or so all of the birds, except the little pheasant, had methodically been taken from the pen and had met their fate out in the field. With no intention of killing his little shadow, my friend went into the pen to release him, when the pheasant looked at him, figured out he was the only one left, promptly had a heart attack and died.
Now, I am not laughing at the death of the bird. I like birds. I am laughing at my friend's fear that he has now accidentally acquired the power of the evil eye. He warned everyone in the room to not look at him for too long because he couldn't be responsible for what might happen.
We all laughed pretty hard while trying to hold our lotus position, and then we scooped up our mats and, without making eye contact, said goodbye until Tuesday.