I have a new office mate. It’s my friend Nick and we always have a good time when we share office space. On our last show, we got in trouble for “non-stop cackling” and “continued mention of specific body parts.” Every day around 4:30 or so, we’d get punchy and I’d start laughing so hard that I’d be either nearly pissing my pants or wiping tears off my face.

But we’re more than simply cackles and base body humor, we are observers of nature too.

Yesterday we decided to take a break outside and stood in the street near the front door to the production office and watched a hawk tear the flesh from a pigeon that he’d plucked out the sky just moments earlier.

The hawk sat on the roof directly above the production office doorway under the canopy of a tree in the golden evening sunlight. One spot of orange light shone through the dappled shadows of the leaves and hit him squarely on the breastbone, setting him aglow. Behind him, up the hill, the dome of the Columbia Capitol Building shone brilliant white against a solid wall of dark thunderstorm clouds. People noticed our craning necks and a small crowd began to gather.

“He doesn’t like to be watched.” Nick said to the people who joined us to see what we were staring at. They all left. But we didn’t. Eventually the bird became comfortable with our gaze and began to eat again.

Blood spattered the sidewalk. Sometimes a snap of flesh pulled from his beak. As he ripped flesh from feather, he shook his head, sending a steady trail of whirligigging pigeon feathers floating right past the office door. A man in a crisp suit walked right into and past one of them, completely unaware. People walked out the front door lurched over, wincing, as if expecting to be hit with bloody pigeon pieces. And for good reason, as that’s about the time that the hawk tossed a bit of entrails over the edge, scoring a direct hit inside the vestibule.

We watched for a very long time, but eventually left the bird to eat in peace. About ten minutes later the beginning of an evening of thunderstorms began with a boom. Water poured down in a deluge and the secretary came running into our office, beaming, and said, “Hey! The rain’s washing all the blood and guts away!”

That just struck us as funny, setting us off into laughter that escalated to cackles. We do that alot, really for no particular reason. Just about anything can set us off.