A blur, A Stir, A Hawk, Feathers in Flight

A blur, A hawk, Feathers in Flight

     I left the house about 4 today.  For a short hike.  Light snow was blowing under gray-skies of November.  It was melting on the road as fast as it fell.  I was overdressed and started to sweat and I was soon unzipping the 3 layers I had on.  A fleece shirt. A fleece vest.  A heavy coat.  What was I thinking to wear such heavy cloths. 
     Just over the ridge I stopped to check out the Red Tailed Hawk nest along the creek.  100 yards down the hill.   The nest was gone.  I was stunned.  The gales of November must have snapped off the tree, and tumbled the intricately constructed nest to the ground.  I peered down for a longer look and realized I made a mistake.  It was the old nest that had been toppled, which was in a snag.  A dead tree.   Last March the hawk pair built a new nest in a green tree, about 50 foot from the old one.  A smart move. Genetic imprinting perhaps; knowing to avoid homesteading on ancient branch wood.
     A Kestrel peered at me from a nearby power line.  I have seen that same Kestrel in this area dozens of time.  I like to think its the same hawk I have been seeing for a couple of years.  Maybe not.  Probably.  The sparrow hawk flew off, veering away from me, landing in a small spruce tree just down the hill.
     I continued down the road into the canyon and a movement caught my eye.  Just above the ridge line.  It was a pair of soaring hawks, about 1/4 mile from the nesting site.  Settlers hanging around the old farm?  Honyockers.  And a third.  Another hawk was flying just above the pair, but holding pattern in close proximity.  Red tails?  I looked again but didn't have my binoculars so it was impossible to tell.    Two of the hawks seemed to be flying quite close to each other, almost bumping tail fins.  Or just wings. 
     Farther up Rocky Canyon there was snowpack on the gravel.  Just a couple of inches.   Fresh and pure white.  At one bend in the road I had a good view of Cottonwood Creek.  I walked to the edge of the creek.  There was sky blue waters, tumbling over the rocks.  Not an unpleasant sound. 
     I had to get back home before dark and turned to retrace my path.  The light was rapidly waning.  The full moon was hidden in an oncoming storm, and its beams were of little use.