Cooper’s Hawk

A flurry of scurrying birds draws my attention outside. The feeders are empty meaning someone or something has invaded our sanctuary.

A bird of prey. I catch it landing on a neighbour’s tree but it’s too far away to identify. I return to my task, half watching for the return of the many birds that frequent the buffet just outside our windows. Instead, the prowler himself lands atop the hosting pole, his fierce eyes hungrily searching for strays.

“A Cooper’s Hawk,” I yell for Ric, reaching for my camera. I’ve frightened him off, but not too far – he’s landed just at the back of the yard.

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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