Hey, hawks don't care about eating their brethren; it's luncheon, baby.
But we don't usually get to see hawks this up close and personal . . . personally. Sorry, can't help myself.
I don't know why I call a hawk a "he". Maybe she's a "she". Or maybe who cares about the fluidity of avian gender for the love of pete's sake.
What I do know is I was late for work.
But then the ding-dong hawk flew up onto the streetlight.
See what I mean??
Hawk a la Mike . . .
And this one . . . ?