Why was this day called the “Ueno Death March?” Our stroll lasted until late in the morning (early in the afternoon?) and our dogs were tired from the soles to the top of our heads. We hadn’t slept ands our brains were tired. Our jaunt to Ueno Park was supposed to be just a quick scout and it didn’t seem to be that far away from where we had started. Well, it was quite far away and given how tired and frazzled we were, just getting there seemed to be the only mission. At one point, I had actually forgotten where we were going - all I could think of was putting one foot in front of the other. I’m not sure I ever knew why we were going there so late in the day. As the minutes, then quarters went by, and my feet grew ever stiffer, and my mind ever more numb, I sudden;y thought of the long death march of the Cherokee as they were driven from their homeland in the East to the no man’s land of the dry Midwest. Trudge, trudge, trudge. When we finally get there, we haven’t the time nor energy to stay, and basically just skirt the school and the museums along side, detour briefly into the Rodin garden so that Steven can take a snap of the “Gates Of Hell” (apropos at this point), then we leave. On the way out, a large crow landed upon the head of “The Thinker,” perfectly silhouetted against the sky, black bird upon black figure, and I wanted to take a picture. I had run out of film, so I entertained the notion of catching up Steven to take a picture with his camera, but I changed my mind when I realized that it mean actually stopping the march, turning back ten yards, and standing for a minute while the picture was composed. No, no need for that picture.
I now kick myself for allowing fatigue to slay such an opportunity for a wonderful picture. These crows have profiles far different from those at home, and this would have been a perfect picture. Kick me - I’m an idiot.