Heard a loud thump this morning while my hair was wet and my ears weren’t in yet, but I did not see the downed bird from my angle–and in the moment it took me to think, good, it must have been able to fly away in spite of that one, the hawk was suddenly coming straight at me and then doing a U-turn immediately in front of the window; his feet moved fast enough that I didn’t even see it, but when he reached the fence he had breakfast in his talons.
Sleek as a cheetah.
Now, I have had many an occasion where I’ve had a towhee or dove right up close here and they freeze when I move, staring, ready to flee.
No no, it’s okay, and to show them I’m not stalking them I close my eyes for a heartbeat.
They always relax and go back about their business. Always. (Unless something else starts causing them grief, like a scrub jay showing up.) And for a dove, that business suddenly is all about playing blink games back and forth with me, which charms me no end.
The hawk started to pluck but stopped and watched me: would I make a snatch at his food? Any other predator would be a competitor. He had to be sure.
I tried closing my eyes to the slow count of one to see if that would make him relax, knowing full well that he can fly well across my yard in that amount of time.
Breaking the gaze totally did it. I had no idea what type of feathers were flying as he prepared his meal, the distance making the small bird anonymous from here (for which I was grateful), part of the circle of life.
He ate in peace.
And I lifted my mug when he was done and drank my hot cocoa to the day.