Unlike Macbeth, there is no guilt felt by the Northern Shrike. The blood stains on its forehead, bill and breast are from the prey, which it killed to survive another day and not to sit on the throne. Half an hour earlier, it had gone down into the willows, on its way back up it was showing the evidence of having consumed a meal. With no small birds in sight, small mammals like the voles were on the menu. Even if it were full from its recent meal, it was ready for the next prey and if successful it would store it until hunger returned. Even with all my layers, I could feel the cold on my face and hands after being out there watching the bird for an hour on a cold windy day. For the shrike to survive the cold days and nights, it needs to consume a certain amount of food each day. After a meal, it can’t take it for granted it will catch something when it gets hungry. Instead, the shrike is always ready to kill and save it for later. While it waited, it groomed to keep the feathers clean to maximize warmth as I made my home.
