The blossoming of the plum tree, day one.

I hadn’t seen any birds at the feeder in awhile and wondered, but the sun was low enough I thought I might chance going outside to take this picture and I really wanted to.

A day or two ago I was walking down the hall when I heard, as if through the skylight above me–was that the hawk? Did I actually hear the hawk? Or was that something else? I wondered if it might be a crow: there had been a huge flock that had tried to take over the neighborhood a month ago with the last of someone’s unpicked persimmon tree attracting them, but most seemed to have moved on and they always avoided my house. Only once saw a few land in my yard and then immediately go nope nope nope out of here.

So here I was, camera in hand at about 5:00 pm, and we are going to get hundreds more plums than last year’s handful when the tree was just starting to get into this. (Planted by my kids for Mother’s Day here.)

There was that call again.

I looked up into the bay laurel tree just to my right. Whether he was calling to a mate somewhere or giving it to me straight I wasn’t sure but it was a deep, croaky sound that would carry a long way.

The Cooper’s hawk looked over its shoulder back down at me from up at the top as if to say, Prey tell? Do you mind?

And I, grateful for the chance to be actually outside in person with him for that moment but not wanting to cause him grief over it, let the photos already taken be enough.