Close Encounter of the Bird Kind: Red-Tailed Hawk!

It was a two-hawk morning, and I will tell you now that it was one of the peak bird-watching experiences of my entire life. And I simply stumbled into it, arriving at exactly the right time! Isn't it wonderful when things work out that way?

It was a sunny day, and I couldn't wait to get over to the Arboretum to see what was going on. I had a thought about seeing some birds. I was hoping for cedar waxwings; I'd recently come across some pictures of a whole group of them in the Witness Tree a few years back.

But when I was driving to the Arboretum, I spotted a thick bottle shape in a tree down in the meadow by the boardwalk. HAWK! I parked the car and hoofed it as quickly as I could in that direction, scanning the trees. As I drew close enough for photos, the hawk flew from its tree perch down to the ground, where it made a kill!

The creature in the grass was something small, maybe a mouse or vole. And I snapped pictures as the bird ate ravenously. In a few minutes, it abandoned its kill and flew to the top of a nearby tree, where it was even more visible for pictures. (No, that red stuff on her mouth is not lipstick; it is fresh blood from her recent kill!)

I made good use of my time: I sat right down on the ground (yes, in my work clothes!) and balanced my camera on my knees for stability: snap, snap, snapping away on the camera. And then the unthinkable happened: a second, smaller hawk arrived at the kill and began to feed. It stayed a minute or so, then flew into a tree at the corner of East Park Avenue and Bigler Road, across the street.

I then turned my attention to the original, larger bird, and at the very end, I got the best shots of the whole photo shoot. The building behind her, by the way, is the Business Building that I so enjoy photographing. I thought that we were done, so I thanked the bird, and I turned to head back to my car. But the best was yet to come!

The huge hawk left its tree, flew across the meadow and above my head - it couldn't have been more than 10 or 12 feet above me and it was looking straight at me! - and I saw its pale belly in the sun. A woman and child had been playing in the now-dry fountain area, and the bird swooped over them, made a second lap back over me, and then swept over them one last time. It flew up, up, up, and disappeared over the stand of poplars not far from the lily pond.

Of course, the lady and her daughter and I all saw the same thing: the grand swooping show of the huge hawk! And we danced up and down and laughed and chattered together, about how we couldn't believe it, and what a huge bird, and how wonderful, oh yes, HOW WONDERFUL!!!!

I am generally a solitary sort of photographer, but I have to admit that it was more fun to have had that amazing experience with someone; and somehow, especially to have had it with strangers. It was a magic moment we shared: the flight of the swooping hawk, so close, so big, so wild and terrible and beautiful, in the late morning sun. The whole episode - from start to finish - lasted 10 minutes. 10 minutes! And somehow, I was there for it! WOW!

I posted my pictures on Facebook, and a friend identified the larger hawk as a female and the smaller one as an adult male, likely a mated pair with a nest nearby. I went back through some of my blips and realized I have probably been watching this pair for years, in and around and near the Arboretum, and possibly on campus too.

Here are links to stories of at least two past sightings that I believe to be the same birds:
Two Hawks on a Winter's Morning
Tree Row and Fence in the Mist

It is my tradition to include a soundtrack song to accompany my pictures. For a story about two hawks, I want a song about two. So here are Rod Stewart and Tina Turner, with It Takes Two. For myself, and for the miracle of arriving just in time for such a fabulous show, here is a second song: Paul Simon, with Born at the Right Time. Oh, and for good measure, let's add a third song for we happy three, the lady, her daughter, and me, the hawk dancers: the Hooters, with And We Danced.