The Circle of Life

For Isabeau.

"From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the sun
There's more to see than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done
There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high
Through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round"
The Circle of Life, music by Elton John, lyrics by Tim Rice

On Wednesday morning, I stopped by a little pond that I love on my way to work. As I walked along its familiar edge, I startled a red-winged blackbird, a black shape which flew out of the grasses to my left and lifted into flight above my head. As I looked down along the little pond, I saw a nest, intricately woven among the grasses, with four blue eggs in it: a future generation of red-winged blackbirds! I always see the circle of a bird's nest as a sign of hope, a vote that the world should go on.

I did not know it yet at this moment, but I would receive some very sad news upon my return from the beach. The little kestrel, my little lady hawk whom I rescued from the road, passed away while I was gone. I did not receive this news until Thursday morning, when I phoned the local wildlife rehab center for an update. As you might guess, I was very surprised, as the several updates I had received before this had been generally positive, and I had been given the gift of hope.

What followed this news was a closing of my office door and a dissolving into tears, as I mourned the loss of the little kestrel I had come to think of as Isabeau, after the character in the film Ladyhawke. When you help save a life, you become responsible for that life, and you take a great interest in it. I had had high hopes for the little kestrel: that she would recover, that she would eventually be freed to ride the wild breezes again, maybe even that I would be given the great gift of being present for her release. Maybe I could even have my camera, and take some pictures. How joyfully I contemplated that moment!

But it was not to be. Apparently, the little hawk's injuries had been too severe, and she didn't make it. Even the magic of the healing hands I brought her to could not save her. While I felt an almost crushing, great weight of sorrow, I felt no regret: for I had done what I could for her, pulled her from the road, treated her gently, delivered her as quickly as possible to someone knowledgeable in such matters who has helped save such lives before. And loved her, in this short time, more than I ever could have thought possible.

One life ends. Four other lives begin. And so goes the circle of life.

My friends who are pet lovers talk of a place called the Rainbow Bridge, where we hope to meet up again one day with those creatures we have loved who have left this world before us. I have always dreamed of meeting there again the cats and other creatures I have loved and lost in this life.

Who knew that I would add to that list a little lady hawk; that a sound I would cherish and listen for as I approach the Rainbow Bridge might be the sound of the wild cry of a hawk, and the sight of a sweet swooping figure above me, her body healed, her feathers shining, her eyes bright.

Go well, my Isabeau, my little lady hawk. I hope that one day we shall meet again. Until then, I carry your memory in my heart; I carry you with me always.

The circle never ends.

The song: Elton John, The Circle of Life.

And here's just one more link: a photo of another nest, accompanied by another story of the circle of life.