Gregg was beating the heat with some budski's, and that  was making me real nervous, him being so close to the edge of a cliff and all.  "Don't worry, Amigo" he kept reassuring me, "My relatives, those who have passed on, have come back, as animals to watch over me, you know, re-incarnation." It may have been the altitude or the fact I have known Gregg's family for the better part of two decades so the question was begging to be asked "Hombre, I thought you were  Mexican?"  He'll tell you he was surprised by my "aggressive" tone and thats what startled him, but I'm not buying a second of it and subscribe to: slick rock + cowboy boots + budskis + possible  sunstroke  = Gregg slipping  and  face planting off  cliff.  The sun was right in his eyes; Gregg was gonzo.  At this exact moment he swears the hawk shielded his eyes from the sun, allowing him to spot a stable foothold where he lodged the heel of his boot, and was able to regain his balance. "You see!, the bird, re-incarnation! It saved my life!" The thought of carrying his carcass 2 miles back to the truck was weighing heavy on my mind, and as long as he wasn't splattered across the rocks below, he could swear he climbed on the back of that bird and rode it to safety.  "Yeeow! Amigo!" he cackled pointing at the hawk, "Gracious, Tio".