Diamond

Ten feet from my window – I’ve paced it – there’s a deep steep-sided ditch. It’s a channel for water, of course, but also a highway for small rodents. Seconds ago a buzzard stooped, fast, into the ditch. I could see her brown mottled feathers, her spread wings among the dead, still-standing grasses that line the ditch. Jays screeching like the demented souls of some former bedlam. I’m thinking the buzzard has stooped on one of them, when she jumps, takes off with a gallus wingbeat. In her claws a long tailed field mouse.
Yesterday a large raven, high overhead the cottage was boldly flyting a sea eagle, making that deep musical chiming call. Above, then below: the raven was doing his best aerobatics, but never coming too close to the claws of the sea eagle.
The raven has a wingspan of about four feet. The sea eagle’s eight foot span dwarfed the bold raven.

The sea eagle coasted on, higher, then higher still, ignoring the raven.

As the buzzard had been apparently oblivious to the squawking jays.

Raptors have diamond pointed minds.