THE highlight of this spring’s birdsong has been more cuckoos calling than I’ve heard for years. Whether this is due to our success with the Larsen traps or self-control on the part of the Maltese and others, we can’t tell—probably a bit of both. However, it’s when birds squawk strange oaths at each other that spring is at its most interesting.
Yesterday, I was startled by the avian equivalent of two fishwives hurling insults across a street when a peregrine lumbered over my head. I know, peregrines don’t usually lumber, but this one had a bird almost as big as herself in her talons and she was yawing like a helicopter with an overweight underslung load as a crow attacked her, attempting to steal her prey.
The two disappeared into dead ground and I ran to see the fight. It looked as if the falcon had gone to ground to mantle over the kill, but, next, I saw the two of them spiral up in a dogfight. The air was thick with black feathers and the peregrine was clearly besting the bigger bird, which flew off in disgust. By good fortune, I had my binoculars and watched as she circled above the fields.
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