Madder Than An Old Wet Hen

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Do old hens really get ticked off when they get wet? Can't say I know that for a fact. But, this hawk—busy shaking out his still damp feathers from the rain the day before—appeared impatient and  hungry. A rough morning for field mice near our back yard.

Like a Hawk

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Off and on for quite while, I had grieved over our loss of Betty. For a little history of Betty, see the Bitchin' Betty post. Finally, another hawk appears to have taken official ownership of Betty's perch on our roof. This fellow is big, aggressive, and appears rather young. Just this morning, I watched him drive another hawk of "his" fence south of the house. Yes, it seems this fine-feathered friend of ours has declared our fence his territory and that effectively makes the large open space west of our house his hunting ground.

Later, when I took this photograph, the hawk sat on the roof occasionally showing me those yellow eyes that you don't forget once you look into them. Periodically, he calmly checked on me, uttering that "guh-runk" I had never heard. If this fellow had let rip one of the shrieks for which these the Red- tailed Hawks are famous, I would have immediately abandoned my post. There is a reason that movie makers almost always use the screech of these hawks when they want any sort of raptor to curdle blood.

In spite of some interest in keeping track of me, this hawk was mostly attentive to signs of movement in the grass below. Eventually, when he flew away, he soared all the way to the edge of the road. That means his prey was at least one hundred yards away. Makes you think about that phrase watching like hawk.

Adventures

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I just got back from a brief vacation in Argentina where I managed to squeeze in a few days for mountain climbing in the Andes. Getting to the peak of Mt. Aconcagua was a major thrill. Man, it was cold, but well worth it for the view. I would have included photos here, but using the Hassleblad H4-D60 for the first time was tricky and I am still working on the files. One of the best parts of the trip was the interesting people I met. A lovely couple invited me to visit them next year at their villa in Italy. Of course I jumped at the invitation. I think I can squeeze them in between the cruise on the Mediterranean and the African safari. The time in Italy will be interesting, since I don't speak Italian. But, I will get along just fine. I'm sure my iPad has an app to help me with that.

Okay, I splashed cold water on my face. I did go to Bakersfield twice in the past week, I did see nice people, plus I may have climbed a few stairs. And, it is true that I don't speak Italian. But, the part about the Hassleblad is created out of thin air. Maybe it was the altitude...No, Bakersfield is down from here, not up. Furthermore, if there is a safari, it will be local—very local—and the closest I will get to that cruise is watching a leaf boat on cub lake.

Isn't it lovely that fantasies don't cost anything? And they can not be taxed. At least not yet.

By the way, in the interest of full disclosure, the picture is a bit of fantasy, as well. Pieces of truth put together to produce a moment that never happened. I did take the photo of the hawk and I took the photo of clouds and trees on the horizon, but the photos were taken on different days, in different locations and then there are, of course, the textures. Excuse me, while I resume my daydreaming.

Caught Off Guard

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This hawk and I surprised one another Friday evening. After being inside all day, I headed for the front door to take a short walk while the corn bread baked and, on the way, grabbed the camera that had a CF card loaded. It happened to be the 50D with the 70-200mm f4.0. When I stepped off the porch, I turned to the left to check out the sunrise potential and saw out of the corner of my eye one of the hawks perched on our roof. He took off and I scrambled to get a photo.

I wasn’t ready for him and it looks as though he wasn’t prepared for someone to interrupt his hunting. I always walk away from these encounters mentally kicking myself. If, if, if. I only I had had time to choose shutter speed. If only I had had time to adjust exposure. If only I had framed it better. If only I had attached the teleconverter before I walked outside.

Instead of dwelling on the regrets, I decided to celebrate having gotten anything at all. After all, this was strictly a gift. It’s not as it I planned, waited, and watched—investing time in and earning a nice photo. I was fortunate to experience the moment and get anything at all.

All this thinking about how I wish I had done things differently reminded me, of course, of Paul Lester’s post, "Lessons Learned". Each time I download a batch of pictures onto my hard drive, I wonder what new lessons I will learn. Or, what old lessons I might be reminded of yet again.

Boundaries and Opportunities

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There are moments when I regret the fencing on our property and even resent its intrusion. Yes, I know that it is a necessity with the horses. Still, I loved the openness that we experienced when we first moved here. The land closest to our house stretched seamlessly into our surrounding acres and then flowed into the open land to the west and south of us. It made me feel somehow as though my space extended all the way to the horizon and that I was a part of and belonged with all Bear Valley Springs.

The pasture fencing changed that. There are patches of land, now, that are clearly delineated for specific uses and our space has been cut up into smaller pieces. The flow of land to the south is interrupted, and the mountains in the distance have been moved a little farther away.

On the other hand, sometimes a fence is a convenient perch, rather than a boundary. And, thanks to those perches, I get close-up views of some of our little neighbors that I would otherwise have missed.

Fences or opportunities? It comes down to how I look at them.

Missing Betty

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I miss Betty, the red-tailed hawk that so often perched on our roof. We haven’t seen her in months and I think about her frequently. Now keep in mind that we don’t even know if, indeed, our hawk was a Betty, or a Burt. For a little background on how Betty got the name and was assigned a gender, see “Meet Bitchin’ Betty” from Wednesday, July 9, 2008.

The handsome fellow in the photo above has been around a bit lately and does occasionally make use of our roof—sitting in Betty’s spot. But, it’s not the same. Paul Lester posted some observations Tuesday about the way things change no matter how much we wish they wouldn’t. This definitely falls in that category. I had hoped that we would see Betty for many seasons to come, and I catch myself looking for her to return any day now.

Besides, perhaps she will return soon. After all, we saw her most often in late August and through the fall. There may a simple explanation. It's possible that she prefers the hunting elsewhere this time of year. Or, perhaps she has moved on. I don’t want to think about remaining alternatives. Another possibility that I do like is that the handsome fellow who now uses her perch is an offspring. It could be true. I have been told that the hawk I am seeing these days is a young red tail.

Of course, I am romanticizing to avoid unpleasant thoughts. But, I don’t see anything wrong with a little romanticizing now and then to smooth the rough edges of change.

Meet Bitchin’ Betty

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Soon after the Shultz's (previous owners of our house in Bear Valley Springs) moved in, they discovered that a hawk had claimed a spot on the roof—a perch on the western edge of the house offering a perfect bird’s eye view of the open field with all its tiny rodents. The hawk’s proprietary nature along with its frequent dive-bombing maneuvers and aggressive warning shrieks made quite an impression, and the Schultz's decided that the hawk needed a name. Bill knew that a group of FA-18 Hornet pilots stationed at El Toro in southern California gave a name to the computerized female voice that alerts pilots to mechanical trouble. They dubbed her Bitchin’ Betty. The name seemed to fit the predator that had claimed the spot on the roof that would have been used for the satellite dish.

Both The Husband and I have experienced the moment when this hunter comes swooping down from out of the clouds—wings spread wide—those piercing eyes glaring at you. It does leaves an impression. We have decided that the name will stick. When we first began making trips to our new home, we didn’t see a great deal of Betty on our roof and wondered if she had found a new home. But, she’s back and she frequently checks her perch to see what the vegetation in our field might offer. I suppose the hunting is somewhat decent or she wouldn’t return, but so far we haven’t seen her dining on anything.