Came home from a few errands to find a Cooper’s Hawk on the back fence, standing over something gray, white, and unmoving. Oh no! One of Squirrely’s family, thought I. Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Fly away with it, Hawk! They don’t, though, unless they have young to feed, and it’s way too early for that. (And from his speckles I think this guy is last year’s young, himself.) They eat where they kill, which in this case is right here on the fence. Because it wouldn’t leave and because the binocs were right by my desk as always, I had to look.
It’s a pigeon.
Not the diner, the meal.
The Hawk is indeed a Cooper’s, my first. Once it started tearing up the pigeon I didn’t need the binocs; feathers are flying all over the backyard. This is the second time I’ve seen this activity in the same spot; the other time, it was a Red-tail, also chowing down a pigeon. I feel a little bad for not feeling bad for the pigeon, but family’s family.
And right now, with the exception of that hawk tearing apart that pigeon, nothing, absolutely nothing, in the backyard is stirring.
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