It’s official. Spring is here. I had my first hawk-bomb of the year Sunday morning.
So there I was…
Ahem, wrong story. Let’s try that again.
Sunday morning, just before sunrise, I was strolling along enjoying the cool morning air and watching the clouds turn colors just above the eastern horizon. The Mississippi kites had been up for a while and were dogfighting with barn swallows, darting and diving across the street ahead of me, then soaring up into the sky. A few circled far above the trees, looking for something or other. Others harassed the grackles in the park. The grackles seemed to be doing more walking than flying, I might add.
The mourning doves didn’t appear all that concerned, although they were not letting their guard down. They are almost the same size as a male kite, so being carried off wasn’t much of a threat, or so the doves I watched seemed to believe. The grackles stalked through the grass and complained to all and sundry about the great unfairness of life. I laughed.