The things you hear

 Some days you go into the woods and see all kinds of things. Some days you don’t. And then there are days when you don’t see but hear. 

To the north, crows were cawing furiously. Then to the south a blue jay started complaining. Others joined in.

Were those the sounds of the armies converging? A war between species? 

Finally, a hawk screamed.

Crows are just incapable of leaving a resting hawk alone. If a crow sees a hawk, it calls its fellows and they mob it. I’ve seen red-tailed hawks, tired from long hunts, sitting forlornly on a limb while a half dozen crows got as close as they dared and screamed. The hawks are huge — linebackers among schoolboys. But they are not as nimble. 

I’ve never seen jays join crows in mobbing a raptor. I don’t know whether the jays were just alarmed by the passing hawk or whether they had joined the mob.

I’d love to be able to say what happened. But I didn’t see a thing.