A writer's notebook. I plan to post whatever thoughts come to mind that seem worth sharing. I welcome discussion with anyone who drops by.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Morning's Minion

This morning when I came out on the screened porch, a hawk (I think it must have been a sharp shinned hawk), was sitting on the dead branch that stands like a little arm on the side of the tulip tree that is only 10 feet or so from the porch. It didn't mind me at all. It was studying the ground, hoping for something to catch. I've never seen a free hawk that close up before. A mourning dove stood on the same branch only a foot or two away, crying its heart out. I thought, while the hawk stood there, that perhaps the hawk had already caught the mate of the dove. It seemed to have something in its claw. I thought perhaps the dove wasn't afraid because the hawk had already killed, or perhaps that it was driven by the loss of its mate to cry like that. It was not the mating call of the dove, but rather a steadily repeated, loud, warning cry. Finally the hawk flew away and I saw that the thing I thought it held in its claw was only a little side branch of the tree. It hadn't killed the dove's mate at all. The dove only flew away after the hawk was gone. It had warned all the other birds in the area. There was nothing for the hawk to catch.

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