To me, these hawks are an old married British couple.  I can hear this dialogue read in an East London accent by a very…lively pair!

“Well, hullo there, love…”

“Dora, what have I told ye about flirtin’ with the visitors!”

“I’m just talkin' ain’t I?  Can’t a bird just say hullo once without her man rufflin’ his feathers to bits?”

“Just talkin' my left bullock.  You’ve gone and put yer eyes in, I just know it.”

“What do you mean, me eyes?”

“You know exactly what I mean, you old tart.  Those dark, shady ones, all mysterious-like.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, those are me sun-blockin’ eyes!”

“Block the sun, me arse.  Hey!  Hey!  Did ya know that’s me wife you’re makin’ eyes at!”

“Oh Peter, he’s just having a look at me head.  Dr. White has done it up all fine and glossy-like today.”

“Oh, and I bet you just love it when that old bag waxes yer feathers.”

“What’s not to like?  At least he don’t try to do over anyone who takes so much as a wee glance at me.”

“And what do you think you’re doing!  Take yer dirty paws off me wife!”

“Oh Peter, put a sock in it.  Yer going to give yerself a heart attack!”

“I’m already dead!  Thanks for reminding me, dearie!”

“You could enjoy it once, you know.  Quit yer scowling and then maybe someone will love on your feathers, too.”

“Me face is frozen this way, you barmy bag.”

“Right it is.  Well, in that case…hullo there, want to stroke me feathers?”

“Dora!”