My new year is off to a bumpy start, although the fact I remembered to put 2025 in the date above is promising.
I woke early this morning to an inhuman shriek. Either an animal was being harmed or my husband had hurt himself on his way to the kitchen. Staggering out of bed, I found him in the living room having his first cup of coffee of the day. He assured me he was fine, which was a relief. I peered outside into the dark and could see nothing. I shrugged and headed for my own cup of coffee.
After breakfast, I headed to my usual morning destination, my desk with its active bird feeder outside the window. I was puzzled to see there were no birds yet. I had filled the feeder yesterday, so it wasn’t for lack of food. It was unsettling. Dozens of birds are usually fighting for one of the perches once the sun rose. I made my way through my email, glancing up repeatedly to see if the birds had returned.
Suddenly, there was a flash of gray that moved past the window into the trees to the left. I waited a moment and it flew back the other way. I was used to seeing the small birds that the feeder was designed for, but this was a giant compared to them. The bird settled on a bare branch of the Japanese maple in our front yard, and I reached for the bird book. There it was. A Cooper’s Hawk, 14”-20”, up to a 3’ wingspan. I watched him survey the yard from his perch in the tree. Returning to the bird book, I discovered that “they come to feeders, hunting for birds. [They] call a loud clear “cack-cack-cack-cack.” Birds of Washington Field Guide, Stan Tekiela.
I had two reactions. Well, three actually. First, it was fascinating to watch this outsized visitor so near to the house. Second, my mystery cries in the night were now explained. And last but most important, I was outraged that this intruder was stalking “my” little birds. Thanks to google, I learned that it wasn’t unusual to have birds of prey stake out a bird feeder to, what else, feed on birds. (I hate to even type that sentence.) The only solution is to take down the feeder for a few days until the little birds stop showing up. Theoretically, the hawk will realize the cafeteria is closed and move on. With luck, the small birds eventually will return when you go back to feeding them.
Nature is cruel. I know this. It’s why I don’t watch nature shows. They always feature a one creature killing and feeding on another. I didn’t expect that my escape into feeding the birds would turn into a potential crime scene. If that’s what I wanted, I could’ve just gone back to following politics.
The hawk just flew past my window again. I’m off to take down the feeder for now.
May your new year be filled with light, laughter, and good health. And no hawks.
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