I have a hawk living in the tree line next to my house. At the edge of my subdivision, there is a wide tree line and creek (read drainage area) separating my house from the businesses along the main road. I’ve always appreciated the trees that help isolate my home.
Until, that is, construction on a highway less than a mile
away knocked down the habitat of a small hawk which made him pack his bags and
move his home to the woods next to my house.
He’s a smaller hawk, probably a red-shouldered hawk based on the sound
of his cry, and not likely to try and pick up one of my small pets. (All of my pets are right around or above ten
pounds, which is just above the weight limit of this kind of hawk.) Not likely doesn’t mean he can’t, however, so
no more unattended yard time for my pets.
Aside from worries about the cat becoming some predatory
bird’s dinner, these birds are loud.
They scream. And scream. And continue to scream for hours at a
time. I’m sitting on my back patio right
now, enjoying a glass of wine while I write, and he’s been making noise for an
hour straight. He’s worse than the
neighbor’s yappy dogs.
As I’m trying to enjoy my glass of Vino Rosso – flavors of
grape, black raspberry, blueberry, with light tannins and an easy to drink
finish – he seems determined to interrupt my serenity. The light bodied, purple-red of this wine
catches the afternoon sun beautifully and releases aromas of cherry and
pomegranate into the air. It’s a
beautiful red wine.
Meanwhile, I guess I’m stuck with my newest neighbor. The squirrel population doesn’t seem to be
diminishing (mostly, red-shouldered hawks eat small rodents like mice, snakes,
and frogs). I’ll try not to worry about
my fur-kids while I learn to live with the squawking.
Comments
Post a Comment