In the alley behind my garage, I heard raven noises that didn’t sound like raven noises I was used to. There are several nests in the tall pines around my neighborhood, and the big birds are normally noisy and boisterous.
I thought perhaps they’d gotten a pigeon which I’ve seen them do before or maybe they had spotted a piece of black or white plastic garbage bag overflowing from a blue G-Men garbage bin -- they’re not even shy about that anymore.
Anyways, I went back there and found two smaller, younger birds I suppose, pulling feathers from a much larger raven who was on its back with its mouth wide open and breathing hard. They weren’t making much of the noise that I had heard. He was in distress. This wasn’t a mating thing. This wasn’t an everyday altercation over a crust of bread or ice cream container pulled from a magic black bag. The two ignored me and kept at it. I didn’t like it. I was reminded of the bully behavior in A Clockwork Orange, so I waved my arms and scared them off.
