For the past two summers I have let some weedy sumacs grow up in front of the big living room windows. They are ugly, but the convenient perch brings birds practically into the house. Not your usual feeder birds either, but secret denizens of hedgerow and tree. Warblers, wrens, catbirds, even what I think was a red-eyed vireo this year (didn't have my glasses on) come to the shady shelter of sumac umbrellas to peer into the house or glean busily, unaware of our watching. It is delightful to have them so close and yet not scare them.
However, as winter winds approach, the need arises to remove the danger of the weak, but woody stems of the sumacs lashing against the window and breaking it.
Thus pruning time arrives.
I was miserably wielding my brush nippers, deep in prickly things, a cloud of mosquitoes feasting on anything not covered with Off! when a hawk drifted in on silent wings. He quickly hid himself among the Virginia creeper and river bank grape festooning the ash tree on the other side of the driveway and vanished. Had I not looked up at just the right time I would have never known he was there. So quiet. So swiftly invisible. ..and yet such a big bird. I barely caught a glimpse, but he looked like a red tail. I finished my nipper work and trudged back around the house just as he swooped swiftly down over the driveway by the old kennel, sending the chickens scattering like spilled popcorn. They raced under the bushes, screaming their alarm.
Well, that stinker. No wonder he was being so quiet. He was stalking our tame flock. I was just telling the boss about it and he says the hawk has been around all week, sitting in the big cedars that flank the front porch.
Now we know why.
Dang.
(He was indeed a red-tailed hawk btw.)
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