Clearing the decay: What the city’s buzzard problem reveals about our community’s soul

Patricia Smith Guest Columnist A buzzard landed quietly in the grass before her. Its left wing appeared bloodied. More of the birds descended from the sky, gathering around it as if carrying a silent message. The scene felt strangely personal – as though they were asking for help. Then she woke up. Dreams often fade with the morning light, but this one lingered. Ten days later, a family member rushed to tell her, “Your dream came true!” Stepping outside, she found a flock of buzzard