Urban Hawk Observations Chapter 1

   A cawing racket of crows entered my subconscious. Fleetingly, I thought that if I heard that many crows in the summer, I would start looking up.  I was standing on the shaded northwest corner of a busy intersection. It was nearly 4:30 in the afternoon and it had been a sunny day.  The sun was setting behind me. Straight ahead of me up about a quarter of a mile ahead there was a stand of bare-branch trees high on what I would imagine were once ancient river bluffs. Insipid late November shone on their scrawny nakedness. The urban Vista was bland and uninspiring and I felt completely disconnected from the gray-brown aura. Cars went north. Cars went south. 

    Informally, I gave up looking for hawks in this neighborhood for the year several weeks ago when I hadn't seen any in awhile. As an amateur urban bird-of-prey watcher, I, periodically, look up in most of the trees and higher structures when I walk in this neighborhood. Yesterday, I saw one facing directly West into the setting sun on top of an antenna at the Nursing Home across the street. That is, however, a story for another day. I assumed The Red-tailed and Cooper's Hawks that I see periodically in this neighborhood must have flown south for the next couple months. People walk their dogs. Cars go too fast through the side streets. The cars going north and south at the busy intersection easily surpass the posted 35 mph posted speed limit. The hawks were gone for the winter.

     Dispassionately, I scanned the scrawny stick trees high on the old river bluff and saw a lot of crows lift up and fly over one  tree. I looked more closely at the weirdly majestic twigs and there it was: a quietly impervious Red-tailed Hawk facing West into the setting sun.  It's chest feathers were illuminated in the pallid November Sun like a randomly placed splotch of reflective tape.  I couldn't be sure it was a Red-Tailed Hawk but at this distance for me to even see it it would have to be a larger bird. A Cooper''s Hawk at this same distance would look like a blob of leaves that hadn't fallen off yet. Listening to crows can pay off in isolated beautiful moments. 

   At first, I doubted what I saw which, sadly, is a prevalent theme in my life. I remember, standing at the corner, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed the solitary predator in our midst.  I was looking for validation but that seldom comes from outside ourselves. I remembered my commitment to myself; no more looking for validation outside myself and I looked back up to see the Hawk still there. I imagined, maybe, it was trying to heat itself up in the fading Sun but the white feathers would repel heat not absorb it. Perhaps, it was quietly watching a squirrel.

       As I observed it, it achieved lift-off. It hopped but it didn't. Instead, it lifted it's wings up in a giant flap and flew directly west from it's perch at the very top of a very tall tree. It's flight path took it directly over my head. It flew over the trees behind me and I wanted to walk and follow the path it took to see if it landed in a tree in one of the big yards in the neighborhood behind me. I wanted to see it up close. I saw something secret and wild and it got my adrenaline going and it was mine: a moment to keep forever.