Patience, the hard thing?

the unruffled 

the unhurried

Raven parents are models of patience. Three baby Grogs are up and flying now but not without endless hours of parental feeding, coaxing with gentle calls, short suggestive flights, and just standing by protectively. This morning, after a bit of branch hopping and short flights, the three fledglings were rewarded with breakfast. Almost immediately, they settled onto their respective branches for a morning siesta, their soft down feathers spread out like a pillow, eyes blissfully shut. Sunshine flew over, calling encouragement to the two still in the nest. Nothing doing. 

Over the weekend, I saw Baby Moro on the cliff. He seemed untroubled to be resting atop a bush, catching insects overhead and playing with a small bird, perhaps a gnatcatcher that kept flying up to him. An El Moro parent was always close by and the ace-flying father entertained him with great dives and rolls besides showing him easy flights to try. 

Grog seems to be taking advantage of the fledglings' sometime absence to refurbish the nest. I have noticed him collecting sticks for repair work, I presume, as well as soft mossy bits to re-line the nest. Sunshine seems the more frantic feeder in the family while Grog keeps watch and provides a close shoulder for a fledgling to lean on. "Patience fills his crisp combs."