Red-tailed Friend
Reflection
On February third I went to the refuge. Not seeking, just observing.
A delightful little song sparrow greeted me at the marsh with legs grasping two tangent branches to his little orb body.
I then walked the boardwalk and listened to a red-shouldered hawk, song sparrows, goldfinches, and red-winged blackbirds. Overall they were sparse. The day felt grey, cold, and quiet. As I left I heard a sora, and smiled at their winter absence of sound possibly coming to an end.
On my way home as the sun sank below the hills, I spotted a coyote and pulled over.
A Great-blue heron came looked at me and then landed right in front of me. A murmuration of starlings danced in the background coming between the heron and the coyote.
The clouds were amber, the air was moist and growing colder. It was time to head out.
I got in my car and as I started to back out, I saw a hawk. He was on the ground in the grass. I thought he must have just gotten something and just sat still and waited.
I looked up and saw the heron eating a mole - an experience in itself.
I zoomed in on the hawk. He couldn’t have just landed - he was three feet from me the whole time on the side of the road; I put it together - he wasn’t ok.
16:54 - I called the Cascade Raptor Center and told them I had a Northern Harrier that wasn’t ok. They asked if I could bring him in. I said no - I had no gloves, no box, and was clueless on handling a bird this size. They understood and worked on finding someone to help.
I sent a picture - they said it’s a red-tailed hawk. I laughed in my embarrassment - This is the field I come to for harriers. They gather in a group of 12 often. He was in the Harrier field, and in my nervous excitement I didn’t even see his markings - just an injured hawk.
They asked if I could send a location or marker. I said I’d just wait - I don’t think it would be possible to find this bird in the dark.
17:24 - sunset - I hunkered down and got my indirect light on the hawk so that we wouldn’t lose him.
17:44 - They found someone - she texted me - 40min out.
17:54 - twilight ends - it’s in the 40s. I had no way to help him other than to be a beacon for someone who could.
I continued to sit and watch my friend. I wanted to hold him knowing he was cold, but knew better.
A car pulled in - I approached and asked if they could move so as to not disturb the bird. They were kind, bowed, and pulled away.
The hawk moved into a little thicker grass, but still visible.
He settled again.
He looked at me.
I told him it was ok.
He tucked his precious little face into his back and settled in to sleep.
I watched over him.
He opened his eyes once more staring at me, then he slept.
I watched him in the darkness. His silhouette motionless in the grasses.
We sat together.
Cackling geese could be heard in the field to the west.
A couple of coyotes communicated through the moist air.
18:55 - A retired biologist came with gloves, and a crate. I helped block a path and she gently swept him up and put him in a carrier to go with her. What a beautiful human being.
I headed home.
This red-tailed hawk arrived at the Cascade Raptor Center with more beautiful human beings that are better equipped to help.
He made it through the night. I called and they said he was unfortunately critically ill, but they are doing their best.
He passed.
But I was told he passed while he was warm, with food, and hydrated.
I don’t know what the right thing is, but I do hope that there was less suffering.
I cried finding out he passed.
We sat and listened to the geese through sunset and into the darkness together taking in the same moist air in the same harrier field on the same precious earth.
A connection of two lives overlapping for just a moment in time.
I am grateful for the people that took care of him and the Cascade Raptor Center.
I’m grateful for being able to sit for a bit with this feathered friend.