A squabble of seagulls jolted Cahill awake. Through a slit in his hide he watched them swirl and squawk then drop onto a recently ploughed field. Their wings still unfurled, they tottered on the ridges of thick clay like drunken matadors. Cahill rubbed his tired his eyes and wondered when and why seabirds had given up on the ocean to claim the territory of crows? He trained his binoculars on the farmhouse, then onto the laneway where a speeding police car had appeared, its lights flashing. Now he knew how the crows felt, glaring at the field from the trees.
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.