THAT'S NOT MY EGG!

Earlier in the day I watched lively turdids eating worms. They skipped through the grass, heads down, till they found dinner, then jerked forward and seized their prey with their sharp straight beaks, pulling and yanking.
The one nearest me proved an adept hunter, which probably explained
why he was a fat little bird. Or she. I have no idea how to sex fowl.
And the identification as a turdid (thrush) is only speculative.
I'm fairly certain about the sparrows, though.
And anyone can identify a pigeon.


Later, while waiting for the bus on Pacific, I was startled by the biggest raven that I have ever seen. It landed across the street, and purposefully strode over to the car where the old gentleman was waiting for his relative. There was a flock of pigeons on top of the car, underneath, on the side-walk beside, and in front. Several birds happily perched on the roof, surveying their kingdom with a lordly air. The raven ambled over, as if to socialize all palsy-walsy hail fellow well met, and the pigeons politely gave way. Which was a wise move, given that the big black bird towered over them, and as everyone including a pigeon knows, ravens are extremely intelligent.
One naturally gives them a bit of space.
The interplay between pigeons, car, and raven continued for several minutes, till the driver's female relation showed up, whereupon the conveyance slowly took off up Pacific with several birds still on the roof. One by one they took flight, leaving a single bird holding on for dear life (Leonardo DiCaprio, "I'm the king of the world"), to the wonder of an elderly lady who swivelled her head to follow its stately progress past.

The last bird spread wing by the time they reached Miriwa Center.

Meanwhile, the raven flew onto the awning above me, and scrambled up under the roofing. I could hear the scrabbling sounds its feet made, and went a bit into the street to observe it. Once it got to the stable footing of the awning ridge, it sidled sideways, scooting along for several yards along the wall. Occasionally it looked in my direction, but it was mostly interested in the area with all the pigeon droppings.

Finally it found what it wanted. Carefully and deliberately it reached in, then slid down to the street-side of the awning, looked at me one last time, and took off with an egg in its beak.


I'm glad to see that someone has a use for pigeons.
We need more ravens in San Francisco.


The passengers on the Pacific bus, when it finally came, were not nearly so interesting, and a lot less chipper. Probably because they did not have a clue where to get their evening egg.
Obviously not as intelligent as a raven.


Dinner that night was a fried chicken foetus on hot buttered toast, with tomatoes, green chilies, and other tasty things.
It seemed the natural thing to do.




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