My View

The recent torrential rains forced worms and bugs in our lawn to the surface. Some hung around until the water subsided and some threw themselves onto the driveway or the sidewalks.
All this wormy activity caused the birds in the tress to observe with great, silent intensity. No chirping, no stirring around, no calling, just quiet creepy observation from the tree tops.
In one swift movement, the stealth swarm descended en masse. At least fifty Robins swept onto the yard. There was barely enough room for the crowd and each jostled for a spot, but only for a moment.
The Robins began a furious pecking flurry attacking the ground with vigor.
The enthusiastic feeding stopped stock still the moment the Blackbirds arrived.
I think most birds flock to feeding activity much like humans are drawn to a crowd. The Blackbirds must have thought something swell was happening in our yard, and they dropped to the already crowded earth.
There was immediate gang warfare. The Robins started hopping up and down and the Blackbirds puffed up and bobbed their heads. The Blackbirds rotated their wings forward sort of hunching up their backs. They lurched and hopped towards the Robins. They looked quite intimidating, and if a bird can glare, they glared. Someone chirped "When you're a Jet you're a Jet all the way. From your first cigarette to your last dying day."
The Robins hopped higher each flashing its red breast eye height to the lowered Blackbirds. The original object, worms was totally lost. No one seemed to care. The dance and drama was paramount.
The Sharks and the Jets in my yard did not wear out quickly. They hopped, flashed signs, and glared at each other for about a half an hour. I do not know how to spot a worn out bird, but they had to be getting tired.
Responding to some silent alarm call, another group of Robins still fresh and aching for a fight, barreled into the yard. They must have come from the next hood over. Allies were never more welcome.
Now hugely outnumbered, the exhausted Blackbirds simply yielded the field. I am sure some naturalist will contradict me, but the Blackbirds definitely pooped almost in unison as they flew off. At least our yard got fertilized in the process. The exhausted Robins did not celebrate. In about ten minutes, they just flew off all together from the poop strewn field, dignity intact.
As one group of birds flew away, I think I heard a refrain from the still standing victors: “When you’re a Jet, you’re the top cat in town. You’re the gold metal kid with the heavyweight crown.”