Thanks for your interest, cshed. I've been trying to suppress the memories from that fateful weekend, but your questions have awakened the beast.
I sat at my table the other day, pondering your inquiry about photographs and suddenly I remembered I had taken one that day. It was buried deep in an old army trunk in the attic of my house. I went upstairs, dug through the trunk, and there it was. My heart quickened as I stared at the photograph. I took it from the safety of the woods. As you'll recall, I had raced to the woods when the skies darkened with these winged creatures from hell.
In the woods I burrowed beneath a pile of leaves and laid motionless. I listened to the screams fill the air and watched helplessly as hippies were carried away. Then.... I heard a sound. A creature approached....
It walked in a predatory fashion right along the treeline, presumably looking for a nice fat hippie to eat. It drew closer and stopped. I could hear its breathing and the cold eyes darted to and fro. Slowly I raised my camera and took the picture you have just seen. The click of the camera caused the bird to whip his head around and stare straight at me. It slowly approached and I knew I was doomed.
But then, like manna from heaven, a skinny hippie in a tie-dyed shirt raced by screaming and the bird snatched him in its mighty beak, gave me a look that said "It's your lucky day, brother" and the mighty wings spread and it was gone. The whoosh from its wings stirred the leaves around me and I noticed a small army of headless ants sneaking up on me.
But that's another story.