I was reading this book yesterday - an oddly-textured, brave, involving and melancholic glimpse at Greenland and the strange, bloody, joyous myths of Inuit culture. I left it on the table outside, went out for a walk, came back an hour later and the book was gone. I searched and searched, decided the only possible explanations were it had been taken by vultures (are there vultures in Greenland?) or that someone had stolen it. About an hour later I noticed it was twenty yards down the hill, open. At the exact same page I'd left it. There was no wind yesterday, not even a breeze.
(Thanks to Mitch for this: https://youtu.be/pNwvzlo1ePA)