A SOLITARY WIDOW-MAKER

All is peaceful down in the woods this evening, the rooks are settling down while the Tawny Owl is starting up.  There's one patch where I don't walk these days.  Up above a snapped limb is hanging precariously - it's been there for months since a storm snapped it off.  For now, the tree fork has a hold on it but its got to hit the ground someday.  In the forestry trade they'd call it a widow-maker.  You can imagine the origin of that name.