A glance out the kitchen window, Tuesday morning, revealed high drama underway in our back yard. There on the lawn was a hawk the approximate size of the mastodons whose bones are on display at our natural history museum. Not only was the bird large, but it seemed to have at least four wings, all of them thrashing about. I ran upstairs to tell my husband, so he could see what was happening, too. He grabbed a pair of binoculars so we could both see it better.
Even with the binoculars, it wasn’t clear what we were looking at. The avian mayhem continued for quite a while, although it did slow down. As time passed, we realized the hawk had some bird pinned to the ground on its back. Was it another hawk? All the wings were the same color. My husband thought he could make out talons on the bird on its back. I thought what I was seeing was a webbed foot on an orange leg.
The bird on the ground eventually gave up the ghost, and the hawk started plucking it. At least, we hope those events occurred in that order. The deceased bird had a lot of feathers. The hawk scattered them over an area the size of our kitchen table. Then the predator set about eating its prey.
A crow harassed the hawk as all this transpired. Crows have been flying from one side of the back yard to the other with food in their mouths for the last couple weeks, so they must be nesting nearby. We all understand the urge to protect your family. All the same, crow dude, that hawk had already caught something bigger than you!
What the hawk caught was big enough, it turned out, for more than one meal. The big bird left to go rest and digest somewhere else. So, when the dog and I set out on our walk, we traipsed through the back yard to inspect the remains. The dead bird was a female mallard, orange legs, webbed feet, and all. Rascal showed no interest in it whatsoever. We walked on into Janice’s back yard, where I was startled to find the hawk, replete, sitting on a low branch of a tree. The crow was still harassing it.
The crow seemed to object only to the hawk’s presence near the crow’s nest, not to the hawk’s having killed a duck. To the contrary, later that morning, the crow could be seen demonstrating a don’t-mind-if-I-do attitude toward the kill. The hawk didn’t harry the crow while the crow ate. And maybe the crow took tidbits back to its nest.
When my husband took Rascal for his afternoon walk and checked out the site of the life-and-death struggle, he said there was nothing left of the duck but feathers. Even the legs were gone. He did, however, come across a light blue egg in the lilies at the back of our yard.
From time to time, over the years, we’ve had mallards leave single, untended eggs in random spots in the back yard. Our theory of how this hawk caught itself such an enormous breakfast is that she was preoccupied with egg laying at the time. As to why mallards sometimes lay eggs in unsuitable locations, theories abound. My favorite sidebar on the subject said that non-nurtured eggs like this, left to the elements for weeks on end, can explode.
The hawk put in a number of appearances over the next few days, probably on the lookout for additional unwary mallards or abandoned eggs. My favorite look at the hawk was when it perched for some minutes on top of the bluebird house. My husband and I had been poring over our field guides, trying to figure out just what kind of hawk we’d been watching. The bird’s time stationary on the bluebird house offered, at last, a chance to verify its markings. We’re going with redtail as our final answer. There was no listing for mastodon hawk.
On a cheerier note, my husband dropped the dog and me off at Gallup Park this morning, while he ran an errand. Nothing makes Rascal happier than a walk around Gallup Park. I enjoyed it, too. The sun was shining. There was a little breeze. The park wasn’t crowded. The highlight for me, though, was, without question, seeing the cygnets. Five grey-and-white, puffball baby swans, any of which could have fit on my hand, out for a swim with Mom, who looked after them tenderly. The glimpse of life beginning made a nice counterweight to the back-yard battle.
28 April 2023
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