Crows. An airborne murder of them.
One of them starts the trouble, cackling and cawing and screaming something that I can’t quite understand.
The rest of the murder shows up, doing their best Eagles of Manwë impersonation.
They start filling up the neighbors’ trees, making an impressive racket in the process.
Not clear if they’re fighting, mating, or both. Strange are the ways of crows.
Like an avian gang of punk kid thugs, the show off, fight, try to impress everyone, then fly off to find another tree to do it all over in again.
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 