I'd been hearing descending shrieks, calls from someplace hidden in the woods. I recognized the sounds — Red-shouldered Hawks. But I did not see the birds.
So I walked under the leafless trees, down a trail into the canyon cut by Crow Creek. It was quiet, that bright, cold afternoon, except for water pouring through tree snags in the creek. Spring was still in the future. No bird sang from the branches. No crickets. No frogs.
I became aware of two hawks circling high against pure blue. When they banked, letting me see their upper sides, their wide-spread tails showed striking black-and-white bands. Again and again, one hawk pumped higher into the sky and then dived down as if to collide with the lower bird, only to break into a circling pattern again.
So intent were they that they didn’t seem to notice me staring up at them. I must have stopped breathing when one dropped suddenly into the tall trees over my head.
In an instant it saw me and flew, up again into the blue. And the two glided off, beyond the cliff of the canyon and out of sight.
I had witnessed the fierce ecstasy of angels.
To listen to the call of a Red-shouldeed Hawk, visit The Cornell Lab of Ornithology here, and click on the green “Listen” button.
Difficult to obtain such fine photos, especially in a wooded area. Thanks for the great article.
Sheer....Hawk-Poetry, from Diane-Who-Adores-Birds! And wasn't she pleased when one Hawk lifted its wing to display the subtle markings underneath? You bring Nature right onto our Screens, Diane, and we thank you! On Summerhill we have Red-tail Hawks, flying by now n then to check the Suet feeder, or feedees! Happy Almost Spring to y'all! ~California Sue