The Hawk and the Blue Jay
This morning at my house was like an episode of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. In the wee hours of the morning (since sleeping in is not an option with a dog), I was reading a friend's blog when I decided to glance out my kitchen windows to catch the morning sky. I saw a reflection of a deer in my pool and called my husband over. I see deer virtually every morning when walking Semi, but John doesn't get to see them much. He crept out on the patio to discover a family of four happily munching on our shrubs. It didn't take long until they spotted him and took off to the open area a few houses down.
Coffee in hand, dog on leash, I ventured out. Another frequent visitor we have is a hawk. I used to feel like the hawks were eyeing Semi when he was small, but at 19 pounds, I think he may be safe from being snatched. This particular bird loves to quietly perch on the peak of my second-story roof. The blue jays who must have nests close do not like this. At all. I heard the squawking before I saw the birds. When I looked up, I saw this blue jay hopping around like a crazy person, screeching manically in an attempt to scare the hawk away. I paused to watch for a while because it always amazes me that the hawk doesn't just reach over and peck the smaller bird to death, but he doesn't. He never does. He just keeps scanning the landscape for his next meal.
Finally, Semi, impatient with my bird-watching, tugged on the leash. He has waited long enough. We set out on our slow-paced, quarter of a mile, one-third of a mile if he's having a good day, walk. As usual, he sniffed every blade of grass to find the perfect spots to mark along the way. When we arrived back home, the bluejay finally got his wish as the hawk spread his wings and flew off. However, he didn't go far. Instead, he perched on top of my neighbor's roof. The blue jay was not satisfied with this distance, so resumed his verbal attack on the hawk, even amping it up by dive-bombing the large bird on occasion.
The whole scene got me thinking about the nature of humans, how the big guy usually sits quietly while the little guy squawks at the injustices. How the big guy will occasionally budge, but only to get the little guy off his back, if even only temporarily. But, in the end, it will take a whole lot of little guys making noise to get the big guy to really listen and make some changes. Much like the bluejay, however, the little guys run out of steam after all that screeching yields little to no results.
In nature, predatory animals are at an advantage. I only wish it wasn't that way for humanity.
Coffee in hand, dog on leash, I ventured out. Another frequent visitor we have is a hawk. I used to feel like the hawks were eyeing Semi when he was small, but at 19 pounds, I think he may be safe from being snatched. This particular bird loves to quietly perch on the peak of my second-story roof. The blue jays who must have nests close do not like this. At all. I heard the squawking before I saw the birds. When I looked up, I saw this blue jay hopping around like a crazy person, screeching manically in an attempt to scare the hawk away. I paused to watch for a while because it always amazes me that the hawk doesn't just reach over and peck the smaller bird to death, but he doesn't. He never does. He just keeps scanning the landscape for his next meal.
Finally, Semi, impatient with my bird-watching, tugged on the leash. He has waited long enough. We set out on our slow-paced, quarter of a mile, one-third of a mile if he's having a good day, walk. As usual, he sniffed every blade of grass to find the perfect spots to mark along the way. When we arrived back home, the bluejay finally got his wish as the hawk spread his wings and flew off. However, he didn't go far. Instead, he perched on top of my neighbor's roof. The blue jay was not satisfied with this distance, so resumed his verbal attack on the hawk, even amping it up by dive-bombing the large bird on occasion.
The whole scene got me thinking about the nature of humans, how the big guy usually sits quietly while the little guy squawks at the injustices. How the big guy will occasionally budge, but only to get the little guy off his back, if even only temporarily. But, in the end, it will take a whole lot of little guys making noise to get the big guy to really listen and make some changes. Much like the bluejay, however, the little guys run out of steam after all that screeching yields little to no results.
In nature, predatory animals are at an advantage. I only wish it wasn't that way for humanity.
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