I heard the calls while way down the track.

Hard to miss them really. The loud rolling whistling calls, so distinctive of Whistling Kites.

The two birds were sitting together on the top of an old tree. Long since dead, its grey outstretched branches against a similarly sad, grey sky.

I wondered if they would fly before I was close enough for a few frames.

And they sat.
There is no telling how many ways they can turn their heads left and right and behind. Inquisitive by nature and survival they only looked toward each other a few times.

Several Black Kites were also in the air in the area, and one came down for a closer look, hoping perhaps to put them to wing. But they stood their ground.

A few minutes later all ideas of friendship were over as one jumped to land on the same spot as the other.
It deferred and the friendly moment was gone!

Enjoy