Immature Bald Eagle Yellowstone                                click to enlarge

“Hey, I’m eatin’ here !”  The trouble with street food, especially street food in the rougher part of town, is all the bums that gather round trying for a piece of your elk. You’re in a hurry, you’ve got an appointment with the Nat Geo boys for a mid-afternoon photo shoot and all you want to do is stop and get a quick bite of haunch.

Then these freeloaders arrive and start bugging you for change. If you don’t have any change soon you’re hearing  “hey you gonna eat that?” and if you don’t watch out pretty soon they’re snatching fries right off your plate. I mean that’s going too far. It’s time for a little feathered butt kicking, you got to maintain some street cred here, otherwise you’ll be getting punked everywhere you go.

Usually the big birds eat in a better part of town. The carcasses are fresher, the prices keep the riff-raff out and you get to consort with a better class of raptors. But some days are just screwed up from the git-go and you do what you have to get through it. Even if it means lowering your standards somewhat. I guess this isn’t too bad, you run off a few pan-handlers and catch a few bites and count yourself lucky that the real bad boys, the ones who set up this elk stand aren’t around. There’d be feathers, beaks and eyeballs flying around everywhere. I’m talking about the furry mafia, the cascade creek wolves, the guys that run this part of the park. In fact I hear some of them now. Time to split. Got to go to work.