Sometimes schmaltzy blind love of the underdog,...

...or for the under bird, as it were....
Here on the white privileged, VERY white, mid coast of Maine, even in smaller urban areas, wild life abounds. Sure, the white-tailed deer saunter through the thousand hectare Vierk Estates, (and my veggie garden!), now and again. But moose with young in tow? Not to mention coyotes. Lynx. And our share of birds of many sorts. From the returning tiny ruby throat-ed HB each spring, (right to the nectar feeder at our window, after almost 10,000 Km voyages), to bad arse birds of prey. VERY bad. Hawks, owls, falcons, osprey and bald eagles, no less. See these almost daily. As some doth spot my vehicles., and my hats. So...
...Loved the radio report of a rooster, strutting his stuff, not too far away, in his barn yard. One Sir Stanley, as I recall. Well, it seems a red tailed hawk, Stuka dived down onto big little Stasha, and with lots of noise, dragged his little neck and arse off into a neighboring tree line. Concerned farm family came right out to help, but how, really? In these situations, as with armed mobile police protection from home intruders, when seconds count, they arrive in mere minutes. Seconds-second amendment. But....I digress.
Oh no, animal lovers all, not this time. The farmers report seeing the hawk fly off in disgrace, and watched street fighting man Stanley, strut out back to his harem. Poorer by a few feathers, but head erect, crowing/scratching proudly, and appearing no less intact for the encounter. If hens could only applaud, as did the humans, we suspect. Hard to believe for this bozo on the bus. But the radio never lies.

Wish I could make this stuff up, Peebles.