Ravens are a most noble creature, says Quoth.
After hearing about the raven gangstas, Spanky and Weezee decide it's time to show those birds a thing or two. After all, birds are just dinosaur relects (chickens actually carry remnant dinosaur DNA)—and so what if they're descendants of the Utahraptor—canines are superior, having been personally selected by humans to be their masters (if you don't believe that, let me ask, who pays the bills?).
So, we head out to the desert, where we come upon Quoth and Broken Feather, who, being dinosaur relects, naturally see us a a food source, though they've evolved from stomping and killing to begging for dog biscuits, which I find much more palatable.
The birds sit in a tree, high above any dog interference, and plot their day's dog biscuit rescue. Of course, it all depends on where the biscuits land and how far away the dogs are—but you have to plot the flight trajectories and all that, if you want to be successful.
They go for the biscuits...
And the dogs go for them.
They taunt the dogs from above...
(Note Spanky's head at the bottom of the photo.)
The dogs try to climb the tree...
(Note the craw stuffed full.)
...until finally, the birds tire of it all and fly to another tree, the dogs chasing them. This goes on until the dogs, superior intellects that they are, are close to exhaustion—and then the birds have all the goodies to themselves.
They do the bird equivalent of a high five.
Sea gull in Salt Lake City
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