Do you remember your dad taking his eyes off the road as your family rolled down the road in that classic old VW bus to turn around and glare into the back seat at you, swearing that if you didn’t stop doing whatever you were doing to your siblings, he’d “turn this car around!”? Please don’t tell me I’m the only one. To the contrary, I think even these young peregrine falcons could identify.
Growing up in an aerie high atop a towering rock cliff might sound pretty exciting, but tedium transcends all bounds. There’s not a lot for chicks to do in between trips by mom and dad to fly in take-out (“what? pigeon guillemot again tonight?”), so restless young minds will invent their own entertainment. To me, one chick tugging at its sibling’s tail is not so different from me as a bothersome brother pulling my sister’s hair (“boys will be boys,” right?), and the look of annoyance on that chick’s face reminds me well of the reaction I received, too. All of which serves to remind me now, all these years later:
I should probably call my sister and apologize. Again.