Hawks

Hawks are my friends.  I whistle to them.  I got to know and observe the two hawk chicks who grew up in the tree I could see from my kitchen window.  I consider the hawks a sign of God's love for me.

This was Francis with a young rabbit he had captured.  We have too many rabbits in the neighborhood, so you can't begrudge a fine young hawk dinner.

This was Iggie spreading his wings for one of the first times.  Wasn't he cute?

The young hawks hung around my house that summer.  This is Fran on my chimney.

This is Fran on my deck. He may have been considering how to eat cats who looked at him out the window.  But the cats never went out, so they were safe.

At our new house my hubby said he saw a hawk on the roof.  I didn't see it, but I found this hawk feather on the front porch.  He left his calling card.