My friend says if they win they’ll buy in-game currency for their favorite videogame. They say they’ll buy in an instant something that takes weeks, or months even, to earn otherwise. While we watch the avian dogfight, I’m heartened by this news.
The gardening gods will surely favor me in the bet since my motivations are more pure; my interest more aligned with the needs of the land. I’m already picturing the color of the shovel handle, realizing it’d be more expensive than expected, and ask if we can up the ante.
Why not raise the stakes? The hawk clearly is simply biding its time while it coasts on thermals, seemingly unwilling to flap its wings while the crows badger it from above. I ask to double the bet, picturing the shovel *AND* hori hori I can now buy. Why not go all in they counter? A full month’s paycheck on the winner. Ahha, my friend thinks they themselves are clever but with this I’ve got them. An extra month means I can not just buy tools but more mulch for the yard, too.
I need luck to win and I’m feeling lucky. The hawk, with it’s propensity for violence, will triumph over these bullies. It circles higher. The crows follow, flapping. Not just staying above but dive bombing the hawk from above, then flapping madly, in conjunction with using the same thermals, to gain extra elevation before again attacking downwards.
The hawk looks harried. I wonder if they have any friends to help out but aside from the trio of birds the sky is an empty blue, an expanse that leaves no room for shelter.
The hawk dives, seeking cover now in a ponderosa pine. Nice. Now they’ll pop out, slash the crows with their claws but the crows land, too. Begin cawing. Soon there are four crows instead of two and the hawks so deep in the treetop I can’t seem them.
My friend begins making noise that the bet’s over and I better make plans to pay up but no bird has flown away yet. The whole pursuit happening as such an interlaced dance, it is still too close to call. Almost like the hawks and crows have done this before, like they know what the other will do next and work to have the correct counter in play. Almost like my friend has seen this play out, too.
The crows make overtures towards the interior of the big pine, then pop out in a huff of feathers, clearly, the hawks’ claws are getting the better of them. I side eye my friend, looking for sweat but they are enjoying themselves. They sip electrolytes and eat handfuls of seeds, careful to not let any fall on the land and attract bears.
It’s this self-awareness I see, that I admire, that makes me realize they wouldn’t have made the bet if they thought they might lose. I’m the same way but what if I’m wrong?
Can’t be. Crow pops out, starts to fly away, then pivots and dives back into the thicket of conifer needles. We lose sight, here caws. Now another crow arrives from the other side of the mesa. Magpies are beginning to flow, arriving out of curiosity and then staying for entertainment.
My friend quips that the crows seem to be flying in the wrong direction. A reversal in the sky matches a return of their good mood: they ask if maybe I can pay with bitcoin. I hear more caws and squawks, clearly the hawk is holding its own. Clearly.