Gildwing

It hunts the forest edge on the wing, dropping on beetles and small ground-creatures with a folded, arrowing stoop, then flaring those gilt wings at the last instant to brake. Pairs display in spring by rising in tandem and letting the sun run gold along their outstretched feathers, a courtship as vain as it is lovely. It caches food in bark-crevices and, unlike many hoarders, actually remembers where, returning through lean weeks to draw down a larder only it can find.