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I looked out the kitchen window this morning and saw a Black-faced
Cuckoo-shrike perched on a power line in all its spruced-up, powder-down glory.
Suddenly, two more cuckoo-shrikes dived at it in vigorous, close pursuit of one
another. Were they expressing joie de vivre at the dawn of spring? Or, was it a
case of, "Get outa my face and my territory!"?
The perched bird joined the helter-skelter and they whipped behind trees a
couple of backyards away to reappear a second later haring across the sky
like a pack of little grey Focke-Wulfs on high.
John Layton
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