The Bird Years Go By

Our bird families have been here forever.

Of course they've lived here longer that our 25 measly years:
ravens, towhees, killdeer, quail, titmouses, woodpeckers, hawks, wild turkeys, orioles, Canadian geese in spring and fall, turkey vultures, hummingbirds, doves, jays, robins, finches, even a pheasant and a peacock.

Only the killdeer have gone,
development and cats moved into their field. I almost stepped on the nest once. Four speckled grey and white speckled eggs sitting symmetrically in jagged gravel.

The cycles, the seasons stream by like novellas.
Searching for supplies, the parents begin nest building, then egg laying, endless feedings, and finally encouraging flapping fledglings to fly.

Lately the birds are bugging me somewhat;
especially the ravens. I've always loved them the best: amazing intelligent birds, big, beautiful shiny black, intricately communicative, complexly social, awesome.

The neighbor is feeding them.
Now they sit up in their trees and call for bread if it's not forthcoming. They scan the field which abuts ours. The birds are certainly willing to include our wild baby birds in their omnivorous meals.

And the ravens are fighting.
A hawk was clinging to the neighbors' fence, fending off a very aggressive raven. Away from it's residence, a nearby eucalyptus stand, I wondered if it was a young hawk, unaware of raven ways. I couldn't stand it. No one was home so I dashed over. The hawk was pinned down. Heart beating heavy I ran, waving my arms, rushing them off . All swooped up, ravens chasing the hawk home, screams and caws hurting my ears, my heart.

I throw tennis balls at starlings.
Last week a sponge...it was handy. They want the babies as well, as even do the hawks, one which zipped into our hedgerow near the feeders with a flop, then up and gone, dropping feathers in its wake. Two towhees took on another on the driveway, really gave it to him, feathers flew. The air is full of nips to another's tail, wings.

Birdland can be dramatic and, sometimes deadly.
Even the delicate hummingbirds battle at the syrup feeders. Not as peaceful as one would think.

I've got to watch out...
for manipulative tendencies that press me into saving some, shooing others, feeding and watering the rest, even planting to lure more, trying to intervene.

The ravens are bothering, I have to say; but my fascination perseveres.

I just can't get enough of this.