1. Hawk
It was early morning. The sun was still low enough that the heat of the day had not yet risen, and there were clouds running low in the sky and even a hint of rain.
We stood at the top of a hill at the edge of a Juniper thicket. Behind us, a few of spring’s flowers were still blooming in the grass where the trees dwindled.
The Golden Cheek Warblers like the thicket, Brandon was telling us. And the Black Capped Vireos like the open, grassy places, although he wasn’t sure if they’d seen any up here.
And as he was talking about Warblers and Vireos and controlled burns, in the distance we heard a Red Tailed Hawk — a long mournful cry that lingered longer than any I’ve heard before. As it was crying, it flew towards us, wings outstretched, tail lit by the morning light. And then it was over us, screeching/crying as if to welcome us. Or maybe to complain. Or maybe, of course, for some reason that had nothing to do with us.
And then it was gone.
2. Owls
It was dusk of the same day. The sky still glowed with the remnant light of day, but the shadows were deep under the Oak and Ash. Â It had been a hot day, and my clothes were wet from sweat. I came around the corner of the house to sit down on the bench and catch my breath and enjoy the little bit of evening breeze.
There was something in the tree—a scratching/scraping sound vaguely reminiscent of cicadas. Or was it a squirrel complaining? I looked up to see and noticed a small silhouette in the branches. It wasn’t a squirrel: I saw no sign of a tail. It wasn’t a broken branch.
Then something flew into the canopy from behind me with great grey wings outstretched. It landed next to whatever that thing was, and the two of them moved closer together. And the scratching/scraping sound continued.
Owls. They were owls. And now a third one joined them from the other side of the street, gliding into the upper reaches of the tree on great grey wings.
I whistled my Screech Owl call, and one of them turned to look at me, rotating its head each time I whistled. Behind me somewhere in the neighbor’s yard, I heard the long low rolling A-song of another owl. I whistled again.
And then they all spread their wings flew off.
3. Cranes
It was night of the same long day. Clouds covered the sky. The dog was off leach, because the soccer teams had left for the night. The field lights were still on.
I looked up at something that was moving overhead and saw a long ‘V’ of bright white birds lit up from below.
I think they were Cranes, although it’s late in the year for them. I understand they fly at night while we’re obliviously asleep. This group flew over the soccer field with it’s glaring lights filling the night, and my oblivious was erased. I stood there, head turned to the sky, and watched. I was facing east and stood there as they flew overhead and southward to the right until they disappeared again into the gloom of night.
They were headed to the coast.