We weren’t moving fast. The truck slogged along, twenty under the speed limit. Curtains of snow undulated on the road ahead, jumping and collapsing like vampires staked in the heart as we’d overtake them. We slowed when we saw the two dots on the shoulder. Two magpies huddled together and watched us as we watched them while we creeped by. I imagined they were pissed they didn’t fly south, that their instincts kept them in this frozen Albertan wasteland. What was even worse was that we were heading south and had more than enough room. Perhaps if they’d known, if they’d just raised a wing or a talon as we passed.