Life

Angry Bird Attacks Camp Residents: Mother Bird Avenging Kidnapped Chick?

In the early morning, the verdant branches and foliage flaunt the freshness of early spring. A dense obsidian cloud loomed like an enormous hat, adhered to the summits of two towering edifices. The airborne raindrops lingered, arrested in midair, unable to descend. Exiting the cafeteria, I experienced a satisfying belch, and the rich saline aroma of scorching dry noodles permeated my being. Revitalized, I hastened towards the circular path within the woodland, eager to conclude the initial lesson of “get moving” in front of the rain-drenched mountain, around two or three o’clock.

The zephyr caressed beneath my feet, while thoughts brewed like simmering porridge in my mind.

“Quack, quack, quack,” several brief avian calls echoed, as if engaging in a dialogue upon the boughs.

Suddenly, a bird emerged from the dense foliage, fluttering directly towards my head. In an instant, my heart tightened, a shiver ran down my spine, and goosebumps prickled across my entire body. Being assaulted by such a ferocious bird seemed to portend trouble, casting a pall over my heart.

An unexpected and chilling spectacle unfolded before unsuspecting eyes. The slowly boiling porridge was promptly infused with a handful of firewood, causing it to seethe and froth. It amounted to nothing more than extracting the square root of misfortune and multiplying the vexations, a mere waiting game.

The following morning, while strolling, I encountered a lady from the property management department. She divulged that a bird had been attacking people within the encampment, and numerous individuals had fallen victim to its assaults. Upon reaching the office, several well-intentioned comrades sent text messages, cautioning me to beware of the avian assailant during my walks. It appeared that my apprehension had been excessive, merely coinciding with an internet celebrity.

This bird harbored grievances and misunderstandings towards humans. Typically, it awaited its prey at dawn, springing forth intermittently when someone passed beneath the towering and upright camphor tree, launching attacks with its sharp beak and talons directed at the head and neck. Even under the bright light of day, an eerie atmosphere prevailed. In the midst of a dark and blustery night, should I be startled, the potential demise of countless cells loomed.

Failing to comprehend the bird’s grievances, unable to fathom its emotional state, my heart brimmed with uncertainty. One day, as I traversed the vicinity of the camphor tree, I ventured to greet it, hoping to dispel the inexplicable misunderstanding with benevolence. The little bird leapt from one branch to another, its “quack, quack, quack” cry growing increasingly urgent. Did the bird perceive my gesture as an impending attack? Miscommunication could give rise to further misconceptions.

Gazing skyward, a bustling flock of birds caught my eye. Several birds, with great haste, gathered dead branches upon the sturdy boughs of the camphor tree, constructing their nests. Could this bird be the valiant, golden-armored warrior of their tribe, charging into battle and willingly assuming the vanguard position to safeguard their nests? Yet, we remain uncertain.

The bird’s repeated successes prompted the property management to dispatch a slingshot team, embarking on a specialized operation against it. It is incumbent upon everyone to care for animals. The slingshot wielders employed non-lethal rubber bullets, incrementally raising their aim, allowing the birds to deride their professionalism.

Although no injuries were sustained during these encounters, the bloody ambiance created was sufficient to deter the little bird. The subsequent day, the bird flew from the left woods to the right woods. Upon sight of a familiar figure from behind, a taste of bitterness and resentment arose within it. Would it launch a sudden attack? The grudges of the slingshot team must also be taken into account. Old and new animosities converged, threatening to overwhelm the little bird with pent-up grievances.

What manner of bird is this? So vindictive, yet so courageous. Its exterior betrays a seemingly contented creature: a lengthy tail, a pointed beak, a sable neck, ebony beak, and coal-black feet. It adorns a gray vest, while its wings and tail bear a hue of bluish-gray.

Du Niang claims that this kind of bird is called a gray magpie, also known as a mountain magpie or blue magpie.

These birds typically construct their nests upon the uppermost branches of towering trees, subsisting on pine caterpillars and crops. During winter, they also peck at corn seeds beneath the eaves.

Why such violence? Each time I embark on a morning stroll, I remain vigilant, concocting hypotheses, yet failing to arrive at a convincing explanation. If the nest is being protected, why is only one bird involved? If motivated byterritoriality, why does it attack indiscriminately? The mysteries surrounding this gray magpie continue to confound.

As the days passed, the encounters with the bird became less frequent. Perhaps it had exhausted its grievances or found a new location to build its nest. The tranquility gradually returned to the woodland, and the morning walks resumed without the constant threat of avian assault.

In the end, the gray magpie remains an enigma, a symbol of nature’s complexity and our limited understanding of its intricate workings. It serves as a reminder that even the smallest creatures can harbor emotions and motivations that are beyond our comprehension. Perhaps one day, we will unravel the secrets behind its behavior and gain a deeper insight into the world of these fascinating birds. Until then, we can only marvel at the resilience and determination of the gray magpie, as it continues to navigate its own unique path in the vast tapestry of life.

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