This photo of Sawyer makes me laugh, because he is totally frontin. It seems as if he caught a bird and wants to get inside to show it to David (the quick-acting, if grossed-out, photographer). Thing is, he's glomming off of Finley's hunting skills. She had caught the bird while it ate seeds on our deck, and after she had eaten some of the bird (a bloody mess), Sawyer took it up with excitement and marched around the porch.
I do appreciate his joy. He's a little clumsy and slow sometimes, but the boy's sure got spirit.
Finley has better timing and stealth: she knows, for instance, that crouching needs to happen behind the barrel -- not out in the open, as Sawyer tries; but she doesn't celebrate her victories or parade them around. Moments later, she's looking for another kill. She has been determined: two days ago, she crouched for 30 minutes in a cold rain, just waiting, waiting.
David's macro shot of the dead little creature is lovely. I am fascinated by the feather patterns and their delicacy. We have identified all of the other birds that show up on our deck, save for these little grey ones. I assume they are females of some species.
Her death didn't deter the other birds long. They are back to feeding -- a bluejay among them today.