John walked through the streets of downtown Buffalo, basked in the shade of the towering skyscrapers that made up this concrete jungle. Chewing on his morning bagel that he got from a little coffee shop on Main street he passed through a little park area with a fountain.
	On the fountain were a group of pigeons waiting for someone like him to drop their breakfast so they may come in and eat the scraps. But John was careful not to drop his 2.71$  bagel. As he passed the perched pigeons they panicked and flew upward into the empty sky to escape this possible threat, and as they flew away, one of the flocks members released their bowels.
	They released them right above John, who was spared the humility of having bird excrement gel out his hair, but his bagel was not spared. He felt the waste splatter on his breakfast and immediately dropped it. He looked to the fleeing birds and cried out to them.
	“Get the hell out of here. Go to the woods were you belong and stay out of our city.”
	Our city. The humans city. What segregation was this. Humans get the city while the animals get the woods. But the city was the woods. At one time anyways.
	John stared down at his former meal and cursed. He was going to kick it with his brown loafers when he heard a huge crash coming from down the street. John was  attracted to the noise like a moth attracted to light. He kept following the noise around the steel canyon walls. 
	Finally he found the root of the noise. It was some sort of construction site. A building was being torn down and according to the sign on the fence that protected citizens from getting to close, a picture showed that trees were going to be put up on this spot. That couldn’t be right. Taking a building down to put up trees. He wanted to stay and ask a worker about it, but he had to go to work.
	John was leaving his work, heading for his bus stop when he passed yet another construction site. And just like the first a building was coming down, and according to the sign, trees were going up. But this site was deserted at the moment. It must have been quitting time for the construction workers like it was for him too. But on his way home he encountered several more sites like this. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. They were tearing down a court building that he frequented just yesterday. For trees.
	He would just have to go hoe and check the paper for any news about this weird trend that was going on. But his paper was of no use. There was no mention of the deconstruction going on downtown. He decided that he would leave earlier the next morning to check it out.

	The next morning came around but John was unable to leave the house. He felt very sick. It was probably because of that damned pigeon that crapped on his bagel yesterday. Some must of got on his hand and he must of touched his mouth or something. He would have to wait until tomorrow to find out more about the buildings. 
	But tomorrow came and John was still unable to leave. Tomorrow he thought. Tomorrow he would find out. But again, tomorrow came and he stayed in bed. And the next day he did the same, and the day after that too. He was in bed for a week before he was better. And by the time he got out of bed and downtown he had forgotten all about the buildings being taken down and the trees going up. He was reading the paper when the bus driver called out to the bus occupants (It was only John), “Last stop, everybody off.”
	John raised his nose from the paper and looked out the window and saw a bunch of trees where downtown should have been. He went to the bus driver confused.
	“Excuse me,” he said “But I thought this bus went downtown.”
	“It does.” Replied the driver. “This is downtown now. Now sir you have to get off. it’s the last stop.”
	The bus door opened and John went through, his questions still unanswered. He moved towards the wooded area where his job once been, but was stopped by a fellow navigating the woods.
	“Can I help you sir?” He said.
	“Um,” John said, unable to believe what he was seeing. “What happened? Where are the buildings? Why are there all these trees?”
	“Didn’t you hear. It was all over the news late last week.”
	“I was sick last week and slept all day.”
	“Oh, well we went to court with you guys and won. We had evidence that we owned this land before you so we won it back. We need a place for our jobs and habitats too.”  Another deer comes from the woods and passes by John and his deer friend who just explained the situation to him.
	“Hey, Frank, I’m going to the pond for a quick drink. Want to come?” 
	“No, I have to get to the herd or Stag is going to have my head.”
	“I hear ya. I’ll see you later then.”
	John stares amazed at this sight. And yet all he can say is, “Where will I work?”
	“If you want, I can see if Stag will hire you. He’s always looking for someone else to help protect the young. It pays food and people to stay with,”
	John slowly nods his head.
	“Follow me.” The deer leads John into the woods but suddenly stops. “Hold on, we sort of have a dress code, as in we don’t dress.”
	“Oh, sorry.” John begins taking off all of his clothes. While he is taking off his clothes his deer friend asks him if he would like to join him in a hunt.
	“A hunt?” John asks.
	“Yeah, were going to the ol’supermarket. it’s the time of the year when its full of them. Nice ripe ones too. Yep, I know I have something to be thankful for this year.”