Like A Hawk

We get the occasional hawk around here. Of course we do: lots of good eatin' between the mice and the other baby birds.

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.

Ohmygod a hawk! That's me on the right, looking out.

. . . but I have to leave *now* to get to work on time . . .

. . . oh but he turned his head . . .

. . . wait, he's taking off! . . .

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.

And there hawk sat . . .

. . . checking out hawk's surroundings . . .

I said, "Mistah, I have got to go . . ."

And Mistah said, "okay, I'm ready with the camera. I'll tell you when to open the door. One . . . two . . . three . . . "

". . . Go!"

Bam.

This one's my fave.

And this one looks like Jacquie's friend gave it his own personal magical touch . . .

See what I mean??

Hawk a la Mike . . .  

And this one . . . ?

This one is Mistah's fave . . .

Boom.