Clackety clack went the beak again, a scuffle of talons upon a branch. A smaller creak protested, at first from where the raven was perched with his impatient stare. It happened again, grumbling this time with the hint moss and roots were rather annoyed neither you nor the bird had moved on. You saw it first, a black jagged rake down the center of the old tree, a deep groan of complaint swiftly following. Bark and branches shuddered, twisting outward as the hole widened.