Down by
the farmers fields, the morning is pleasantly cool, and not too dry. The corn
and cabbage growing lush, tall.
Down the path a ways, we encounter the Broadwing Hawk,who, in winter, frequents our own next-door neighborhood.
And after watching them as a fledgling themself, struggling through their first winter two years ago, by feeding at our bird food station ( on doves) , did this spring find their first mate, and had their own beautiful fledgling.
We walk up past all of the small private camps, gates up, RVs situated, eating areas decorated, down by the river.
All the flora have changed in the last month, the goldenrod now in full bloom, to the profound pleasure of all of the pollinators.
Overhead, the Broadwing fends off the five sibling crows, broadcasts their displeasure at our presence here, which is preventing their own young one from taking flight with the parent, having their morning lesson.
Round and round the hawk soars, overhead, keening that this.. this.. is their territory. "Here, here!" they call to me now, as the young hawk replies to the parent's entreaties , in a small brave voice from the treetop.
The sun is higher in the sky, the heat rising, as I turn to the car, panting pup inside; turn and return to my own place.
Down the path a ways, we encounter the Broadwing Hawk,who, in winter, frequents our own next-door neighborhood.
And after watching them as a fledgling themself, struggling through their first winter two years ago, by feeding at our bird food station ( on doves) , did this spring find their first mate, and had their own beautiful fledgling.
We walk up past all of the small private camps, gates up, RVs situated, eating areas decorated, down by the river.
All the flora have changed in the last month, the goldenrod now in full bloom, to the profound pleasure of all of the pollinators.
Overhead, the Broadwing fends off the five sibling crows, broadcasts their displeasure at our presence here, which is preventing their own young one from taking flight with the parent, having their morning lesson.
Round and round the hawk soars, overhead, keening that this.. this.. is their territory. "Here, here!" they call to me now, as the young hawk replies to the parent's entreaties , in a small brave voice from the treetop.
The sun is higher in the sky, the heat rising, as I turn to the car, panting pup inside; turn and return to my own place.
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