Max the Mutt and Angus walk up our dirt lane. |
Then my attention was drawn above the shimmering sea of locusts to what could only be described as a battle of the air. In the blue autumn sky above, three magnificent hawkes - Brown Goshawks I think - engaged in a battle of speed, skill and grace with a variety of other smaller, less graceful but determined birds. The battleground was the sky above an open paddock in which five gnarled old gum trees stood. The hawks clearly had a plan of attack - perhaps they were after baby birds in nests - as they glided effortlessly around each gum, occasionally diving into the tree and out the other side with much flapping and fussing from the smaller birds around. It was a David and Goliath scene - certainly the smaller attack birds had no hope of matching the hawks' skill and grace, but that did not stop them from shrieking after them and flapping their little wings as fast as they could in an attempt to catch up with them. I image they were saying;
"That's right, fly off to your mummies you cowards! If I get a hold of you I'll give you what's for you bullies!!"
I watched for a while. Finally the hawks flew away and the smaller birds settled back into the trees, safe for now. The locusts just kept swarming.
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