Into the Mystic

8/16/2022 10:29 AM

As I sit here now writing this missive, which soon shall be a reflection, a hawk has brought chaos and strife to my merry bunch of resident birds and squirrels. I knew that something was amiss even though I sit with my back to the window for I heard the voices of my feathered residents change dramatically.

As I rose from my chair and went to the window overlooking the gardens I suspected a hawk to be present but did not at first see one. My sight scanned the greater yard space and then I noted movement to the right of my gaze. As I reaffixed my sight to a space directly in front of me, overlooking the feeders, I then noted the hawk perched on the fence directly over the bush that is home to many of my tiny companions.

The frantic chirps of my daily companions, in current time with my typing, have now quieted though I am unsure as to if it is due to the hawk taking leave or if they have fallen silent in fear. I suspect the former as I now hear normal birdsong beginning to arise once again to adjoin the buzz of locusts so prevalent in the August swelter.

I decide to rise from my desk in an attempt to visually discern the current status of the happenings outdoors but fail to spy the hawk or any little birds emerged from shelter as of yet. I do not know if the hawk has feasted or departed unfed; though I now hear a squirrel speaking loudly from the large oak trees adjacent to my property and feel that soon the little one’s will reemerge, assured by their fellow garden mate that the coast is clear.

Earlier, when first I was alerted to turmoil in the garden the only wildlife I spotted was the hawk perched upon the fence rail. As I watched he teetered back and forth, shifting his weight from one foot to another, a dance step of sorts, and a precursor I have seen before that leads to a sudden bolt towards prey.

 As I watched the hawk dance I offered a prayer attached to an affirmation; I intoned that though I would not interfere and that I would indeed respect the Nature of Things, should my plea be aligned with the Will of God, then please allow my flock reprieve from danger and hurry the hawk away to another feeding ground, away from my beloveds. For this reordering of events; I would be so very grateful.

 It is not the placement of value of any certain creature, above any other, that spurred my prayer in so much as it was the plea of a heart that still hurts with the witnessing of such acts in progress, even though these acts in truth be in natural order.

As I continued to watch the hawk, the tiny occupants of the bush squawking loudly and frantically below his sharp sight, I lifted my prayer with all of my heart and I waited. Suddenly the hawk jumped off of the fence rail and landed opposite the bush and onto the ground behind it. My previously clear view was now restricted. By the sounds emitting from the direction the hawk had landed I surmised that he was busy trying to “tease” out a frightened bird or two from their space of security.

I observed a sudden mad dash from under the bush and realized one of the resident squirrels was fleeing the common shared shelter and skipping across the yard in great strides determined to find solitary safety in his tree nest. I did not doubt that he would accomplish exactly that for I have previously observed squirrels having a standoff with a hawk on the fence and eventually the squirrels chose to charge the hawk when their fear became too great to bear. The adage of “when you have nothing more to lose” comes to mind. The hawk did not stand its ground, nor return the attack, and instead chose to remove itself from the reach of its unexpected challenger(s).

After noting the likely safe departure of the squirrel, and amidst ongoing rustling omitting visually and audibly from the now besieged bush, I returned to my desk to finish this missive. Though my back is turned to the sight of that which is occurring I am nonetheless awash in the drama and intensity of it as my other senses seem keen to be witness to the plight of my loves.

Yet I know that I must, and will, allow for Nature to take its true course.

Though I yet feel pain and sorrow when such events of violence and brutality occur in my presence I recognize and accept my call to Witness, to hold love and offer prayers for, the things I cannot change.

When I choose to visit the feeders later today I may find the remains of a friend now returned to Spirit. Though I hope that I do not, if I do, it is mine to honor and I shall place the remains in the small grove of oaks under a covering of leaves.

I do not bury the wild ones; it is not of their nature and this I respect.

I always intone a blessing of thanks for the wild one’s rebirthing to Spirit and then I resume my task of tending those that still have need of me; taking a moment to give thanks for the stewardship entrusted to me.

A heavy heart can also be a grateful, glad heart I have found; the two are not separate states but natural companions.

I shall end on this note, written concurrent to events, that the doves have returned to the base of the feeders and are happily seeking treats to nosh upon, signaling an end to the previous chaos and a return to fairer weather for my outdoor friends.

S.B.

Into The Mystic