Photo by Roi Dimor on Unsplash

Several days ago I was both startled and delighted to see two young hawks on a eucalyptus tree off my deck. No, I was so enchanted I didn’t even think to take a picture.

Later that same day as I was driving away from my home, one of the youngsters was perched on a low traffic sign. My window was open; I stopped and we looked at each other eye-to-eye for a few moments. I’m not at all sure what happened but it seemed if something had.

Now I’m coming to expect the flying beasts, at least until they grow up enough to move on.

Yesterday I tried mimicking their cry. Then I thought to try YouTube and found this:

Okay, mine aren’t red tails and they certainly aren’t captive, and mine aren’t screaming like that at all, but when I pushed the volume up on the video it seemed my buddies at least listened.

This morning I thought I’d missed them. Instead, when I took my cereal onto the deck, there they were, this time on a phone wire off to the right.

Again I mimicked their sound and this time one of them seemed to be responding. I’d cry, he would cry back, back and forth until she tired of the game and headed for a tree. Now I don’t pretend I know how to speak hawk but they were responding. Over time I’ve found that many birds will.

When I take time to look, to see, to listen, to be with the hawks, or the smaller birds, or just with the stillness of the breeze, I begin to maybe feel part of the whole.

What a treat. What a blessing.

Thanks for being there,

Originally published at

Writer, life and writing coach, book ghostwriter, Grandmother, Buddhist. Liberal who listens to the other side, political

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