Eye Contact
Last fall, Ginger and I were driving back to her house in Newton, when a large hawk – pale belly with brown markings – swooped down and landed on a branch above us. We passed under him, with mouths agape. I know raptors are coming back to the cities, but this was the first time I had seen one in such a populated neighborhood although they frequently dine in my backyard.
We talked about the meaning of such events. I reminded her that Carlos Castaneda ascribed portentous future happenings to crows, and then Ginger brought up the book Animal Speak which prompted one of my short rants about how the older friends get the more they attribute natural events to the supernatural. The wind blows your back door closed and itÃs your great grandfather upset with your choice of toothpaste , that sort of thing.
Two days later, Diane, after her walk with Karen, stared out the back window as a hawk landed in the dead maple that borders our yard with Dolly SmithÃs. She was transfixed by its size and demeanor. The raptor perched for an hour in profile, staring with a lone yellow eye into DianeÃs cold-Atlantic blues. By the time I arrived home, the hawk was gone from the tree but not from DianeÃs mind.
She became, in a word – obsessed: hours spent on line flipping through photos of raptors, calls to her Aubudon friend Karen, frequent trips to the window to gaze into the dying tree. Days after that eye contact, we wandered off to Willow Books, and while I got lost in the latest photographic chronology of W.W.II, Diane sat cross legged on the floor, flipping through bird books.
Maybe it was DianeÃs attention to the hawk that helped focus mine. I looked up from the Sunday paper and witnessed a hawk explode on a single pigeon feeding in a group of a dozen. A shotgun blast might have kicked-up more feathers. Another day, I walked outside and heard bird screams. There was a hawk, wings spread, on top of a small black bird. And, I mean a bird that was black, which happened to be a poor choice for the hawk because five crows immediately descended on him.
I left my house today after having lunch and as I approached my truck, there in my driveway, ten feet away, perched a hawk atop and pulling the innards out of, a pigeon. I froze; he froze. I looked at him;he looked at me. I thought of Diane, then I thought – camera. The hawk thought – not today – and flew off with dripping, feathery remains in his talons.
Superbly written piece.
Tricia observes that multiple sightings of an animal in succession, or sightings in groups of animals most often seen singly, may denote an affinity for a totem or power animal. In that belief system, the hawk represents the ability to see meaning in ordinary experiences and its presence helps you to become more observant.
“The God of dirt came up to me many times
and said so many wise and delectable things.
I lay on the grass listening to his dog voice, crow voice, frog voice;
now, he said, and now, and never once mentioned forever.”
Comment by bird brain — February 9, 2005 @ 10:12 pm
Great story.
You have crows! Our crows are mostly dead in Maryland due to West Nile virus. About a year ago, I’d come out to my front yard to drive off to work, and the crows in our trees would start calling to each other, “There’s the guy who covers his trash bags up so we can’t get to them!” in crow language, of course. But now I come out in the morning to silence, with no beady crow eyes staring down at me. But there are still hawks around, and vultures, and, in the summer, Mourning doves, orioles, and cardinals, which apparently haven’t been wiped out by the virus. Glad to see that crows are still out and about up in NE, and joining up communally to fight off the hawks.
Wonder if there has been much northward migration due to global warming?
Comment by rakkity — February 10, 2005 @ 3:29 pm
Buteos.
Otherwise a beautiful story.
Comment by correction — February 10, 2005 @ 6:36 pm
Rak, you bring up an interesting point. I condensed those hawk sightings and, in fact, this was our first summer without any crows. I’d grown quite fond of them and I really hope they didn’t meet the same fate as yours. Diane had me convinced that the hawks had scared the crows away.
Comment by michael — February 10, 2005 @ 6:55 pm
I was relieved NOT to have pictures with that story!
Re: the buteos story — “raptor” isn’t wrong, just buteos is more precise?
Comment by needs clarification — February 10, 2005 @ 7:59 pm
needs clarification…believe me, I had to restrain myself. The pile of bloody feathers was so enticing.
Comment by michael — February 10, 2005 @ 8:05 pm