Even before the sun came up I could hear the cries of the hawks. Eagles live at the end of the street, but hawks live in my yard. There is beauty in their flight, their voices, and in the way they sit and view their world. I’ve watched nesting magpies, blue jays, and tiny song birds pester the sitting hawks to keep them away from tiny nests and tiny babies. The hawk ignores the small birds. She could easily kill them, but her prey is in the grasses below.
This morning there were no ghosts in the oak woods behind my home. Only hawks, and my dog who is barking at deer. Excuse me, I have to go tell my dog to cut it out.