A horrible racket in the trees the other day, a screeching. The next morning on the trail, a scattering of bloody feathers. Later that day, something shoots past the window at mach 10, then more screeching.
Finally, this morning, a glimpse of the mystery intruders. A pair of Black Merlins, perched stoicly in the branches, scanning their surroundings like little terminators. The salad days for our resident robins and starlings are officially over.