A Hawks Feast

 This morning is a blue skied sunny day, lovely. The snow still firm enough to walk on due to the nights freeze. Wandering through the woods, pepper spray on hip, for we have a bear that has left its winter den. Two cameras with me hoping to find ice in geometric form on the surface of the creek. Yet instead of heading to the creek I turn and wander down the long meadow. Soon this meadow will be a shallow lake made of melted snow. A bird sanctuary, though not the sort of sanctuary that is safe, this mornings journey was proof of this. On the edge of a snow bank next to a meandering creek was a Northern Goshawk, perched on its kill, an orange footed duck. Is it one of the ducks that has been living in my pond? As sad as this thought makes me, I felt no sadness watching the hawk ripping feather and flesh from it's kill. Often in my wanderings I come across evidence of some animal tracks, a scuffle or kill; always wondering what had occurred. Wishing that I could have seen the wild in action. Today I saw plenty of action.

Tis the next day and I have an Addendum to this post: I have awoken this morning, to find a pair of mallards swimming in my ponds. They are entirely lively and making plenty of noise. Yesterday I never saw them and I wondered if that hawk had eaten them or one of them. I can barely say how empty the ponds felt to me without them there . Yea, I feel so happy.

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