Most in the Methow assumed the sudden rise in the turkey vulture population was related to the corresponding rise in number of deer, fish and the small yapping dogs favored by hungry eagles. Then a local, out for a 26 mile morning warm-up run, noticed one of the silent soarers seemed to always be circling directly above.

“I know I’m thin,” said the sinewy resident, “but I never thought I looked like carrion.”

Perplexed, the runner—known for environmental activism—started to pay closer attention and noticed the birds never landed during the day and always returned to the same spot to roost at night. It all remained a mystery until one afternoon, during a quick 14 mile cool-down jog, the resident noticed one of the birds on the ground, lifeless, but giving off strange beeps and whirring sounds.

Prodding the dark mass, while running in place to maintain optimum aerobic heart rate, the left-leaning local was shocked to discover the “bird” was actually a drone.

“At first I figured it was something from the Whidbey air station”, said the flummoxed finder. “But I realized they would never send anything this quiet. Then I felt like I was catching the conspiracy virus because, ha ha, I imagined it was something sent out just to watch me. Ha ha.”

Just to be sure, the device was given to a local junior high student who, in less than 4 minutes hacked in, took full control of the drone and determined its control source was located in the vicinity of Wasilla, Alaska. Soon after, a local arborist found the roosting sites to be charging stations.

“Whoever it is, I have to give them credit,” said another local wearing a faded Obama-Biden tee shirt. It’s clever and I don’t know how they control them from a place so close to Russia. Now my only fear is that they’ll let all my greenie friends know that what looks like solar panels in my yard is actually a garage for my ATVs.”