Our hero in this story is a study in grays who has claimed a particular spot on a particular branch where he likes to perch in the afternoons; he doesn’t come to the patio but rather occasionally dives down to stab an insect in the yard.
And then back up to that spot to spend a great deal of time, tail gently seesawing, looking me in the eye if I take the time to notice.
Glancing in a mirror this afternoon as I went by, a raven reflected via the skylight caught my eye.
Our neighbor has an Australian tree called a Silk Oak, oak being generic for tree there. The raven (2.6 lbs, 53″ wingspan) was lazily flopping through the branches and then hefted itself up to where the orange blossoms were. Clearly it had found food: its head disappeared into the orange again and again while it tried to steady itself against the flimsiness of the wildly swaying limb.
There was a mockingbird, 1.7 oz, 14″, at the top of our Chinese elm. Studying that raven. It flew to the other tree above and behind while I thought, careful, little one.
Then suddenly it zoomed straight down at the raven, hoping to startle it away.
Who ignored it.
Back up, dove again, harder, again carefully from behind, veering off at the last. This time the hassled raven tried to hop flap a little out of its way.
Dive! And now it went all out and it clearly connected–I wondered: do little birds grab a clawful of feathers when they’re vehemently defending their territory or perhaps nest?
I don’t know, but enough already, now the raven was clearly trying to escape. It disappeared. The mockingbird did a little “And STAY out!” dance in the air.