If I were a local sharp-shinned hawk here on our farm, today is the day I'd be moving out and headed south. The huge cold front that ripped across the continent over the past day and a half would be incentive enough to leave the plump titmice, juncos, and mourning doves behind for warmer climes.
The wind right now, at midday, is incredibly blustery. The greenhouse door is banging against its frame. And though the wind blows from the southeast, I know from my sailing last summer, that it's quite possible to use a headwind to your advantage, if your sails (or wings) are set just right. But the raptors know this instinctively and soon they be up and soaring.
So I'm keeping my eye to the sky as I sit here writing away. Huge cumulus billows are skating from west to east, the perfect backdrop for the crossbow shapes of migrant accipiters. The trees, whipped by the wind as they are, are mostly holding on to their leaves, as if they are reluctant to undress just yet.
2 comments:
Yes, the trees are just not quite ready to get nekkid, are they?
I am hoping to get out to the VOA park up in West Chester this week to watch for raptors. Ever heard of it (or been there)?
Bill,
You have the soul of a poet. I love what you so eloquently express. It so perfectly captures the essence of it all.
S.
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