The parents of the two redshouldered hawks born and reared in a sycamore on my rural Agoura property this spring recently shifted from flying lessons to hunting prey tactics.
It would require an interspecies translator to fathom the foursome’s exchanges. My best guess would be that the shrieking includes parental exhortations and childish protests.
It was raining prey all over the place. At chow time the young raptors—Arielle and Icarus as I dubbed them—were a competitiv...
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