Thursday while driving to work, I was half-listening to some guy talking on NPR. I think it was a movie review or something. Whatever it was, it had nothing whatsoever to do with birds, but for some reason he ended his chatter with a thought about how we all know what pigeons look like because they’re pretty much the only kind of bird we see in the city.
Which is when the host replied (to no one in particular, because the movie review was taped), “Oh, I don’t know about that. I saw a hawk on my lawn.”
This made me ponder: How did she know it was a hawk? Would I recognize a hawk when I saw one? Sadly, I figured probably not. I grew up in cities, and like the movie reviewer, the only big bird I ever saw was, well, Big Bird. Oh, and that bizarre blue bald eagle on the Muppet Show (“It’s the American way!”).
“Now an American bald eagle!” I consoled myself, “I think I’d at least recognize one of those.” But I figured I would never know for sure because I still live in the city.
Guess what I saw on my walk through the park today? Just hanging out at the top of the highest tree, surveying his domain all majestic-like. The sun made his white feathered head glow.
I’ve never seen a bald eagle at all, let alone in a little city park. I’ve never thought about bald eagles, or heard about them on the radio, until two days ago.
Sometimes life is kinda creepy. In a good way.
We have hawks. Red-tailed hawks. They pick off the occasional mourning dove in the back yard. A week or so ago, a smaller predator bird came by me at about Mach 3 and struck the brush pile where the Oregon junkoes hang out. It missed. Me and the bird it had its eye on. I’m still not sure what it was – a kestrel maybe?
No eagles here ….. yet.