There was a hurry in that bird's wings. The swift departure from the ground aided by effortless flapping of wings have been replaced with erratic movements that seemed unfit against the backdrop of a clear sky. It must have been fleeing, hurling it's body across the thick air in a motion reminiscent of an unruly stone in the air, towards the setting sun. But what chases a bird that wields freedom on the tip of its wings? What scares a bird to lose its grace if anything but captivity?