A funny sight:
A grackle bathing in a street charco, dipping his angular black body into the brown brackish puddle, all that remains from yesterday’s rains. He dips and ducks then flitters and flutters. He struts and stutters, shaking his wings, then does it all over again — a study in feathered choreography — before flexing his wings to propel himself up to a nearby tree branch where he shakes his body one last time, releasing a small shower onto the grateful bougainvillea below.
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There are regular birds and then there are shore birds. Grackles are my favorite regular bird. They are so gutsy! They don’t sing, they tell you how important they are. They have an attitude, which makes some people hate them, but that’s what I love about them.
When they see someone walking by their little ones on the ground getting ready to try their wings, they really get annoyed and make so much noise either to warn the little ones or to scare the human away. I always made this comment, “Oh, stop it! Who do you think is going to want your ugly babies?” Now I’m thinking- that was not very nice of me.
The other day I saw a grackle swoop down and nip a pesky cat who got too near its home ground. The cat did a high flip, heels over head. Must have been a surprisingly hard nip.