Dusk, yesterday. A hawk glided in over the bird feeders and landed on a branch of the big elm tree. A perfect place to peer down into the wild wild woods, scanning for mice. Then the big bird turned around, looking down on the several seed feeders and suet cakes. But it was nearly dark -- even the late-feeding Northern Cardinals were finished. The hawk scanned a bit this way and that, then fluffed feathers and settled down to cover feet with feathers. Turning its head a few more times, it tucked its beak into a shoulder to roost for the night.
I looked out a few times through the evening. The hawk stayed on the roost. Moonlight made its breast glow among the tangle of twigs. Wondered, as I fell asleep, how long the hawk would stay.
At dawn, I peeked out. The hawk was still cozy, not moving. Two gray squirrels scampered up and down on branches near the hawk. Chattering together, they scolded the hawk for being in their tree. The hawk squawked and revealed its claws. The argument went on for seven minutes. The hawk flew away to find breakfast in a neighborhood NOT guarded by squirrels who protect the songbirds that share seed, suet, and peanuts with them.
