The Grisly Grogs

In Sync

   

*Grog youth: "Don't look to me for answers."

Grisly Grogs

While the Grog Six were resting (three in a magnolia tree and of the other three, two were asleep, top to tail on a telephone post with the last one just next to them on the wire), the parents took a flight down the beach. There they met El Moro in no bird's land and so feathers came up along with a lot of strutting around. Ella Moro remained a short distance away on a rock, keeping a close eye on her young one.

To my horror, the three got into a fight with one raven on his back in the sand (I assume it was El Moro) while the other two attacked, wings all over the place. I ran over to break it up just as Ella Moro and even the young Moro flew to help, calling all the while. The Grisly Grogs flew back north and the El Moros returned south. It had not been a happy sight, yet I was impressed by the young Moro's unhesitating advance into the fray to defend his father. He obviously is not a featherweight.

Recently, I had been lucky to witness a flying lesson by El Moro. The father led, executing swift turns while the young Moro missed not a beat, following his father's moves perfectly. They flew together--right, left, up, down--inches apart in exact synchronization.

Yesterday, I saw another synchronized flight of two ravens. While her mate, A.C. Grog, watched graciously from a post, Sunshine Grog air-waltzed with a neighboring raven. Why the good-breeding Grogs yesterday and the beastly ones today?*