Another 52 Weeks — #13
Animal Farm ... or something like it
On Monday, soon after sunrise, a hawk sat in a tree outside our front bedroom and stared at me. Worried that our cat who likes to go out in the mornings might be in danger, I ran downstairs and opened the door.
The eight-pound cat came inside, seemingly grateful but not amused that her turf had been overtaken. This, she appeared to say in a series of italicized meows, is not how the food chain is supposed to work.
We have a number of birds (midsize and small), squirrels (too many squirrels), and even a fox that has been known to roam our neighborhood in Old Town Alexandria. But in seven years of living here, I’ve never seen a hawk. It was eerie and a bit unsettling.
A few minutes later, I took the dog out for her AM constitutional. The hawk remained in the top of the tree, which extends beyond the second floor of our 1920s era townhouse that is located near the city’s central business district.
While the dog snorted the universe, my wife called after returning from her morning workout. She had found a large bird left disemboweled on our sidewalk. The hawk was nowhere to be found; apparently it had done its business and left.
As I dug under the house for a snow shovel, grateful for the spring-like temperatures while hoping I could scoop and carry without seeing the dead bird’s remains, I wondered why the hawk had landed in our tree. Despite my lack of caffeination at the time, I knew hawks supposedly have some type of mystical powers.
Was it the ghost of Edward Hopper, searching for the sequel to his famous 1942 painting Nighthawks? Doubtful.
Was it the bird Isabeau of Anjou, cursed to be a hawk by day and a mid-1980s Michelle Pfeiffer by night? Most assuredly Pfeiffer — even the bad CGI Pfeiffer from “Ladyhawke” — would not come anywhere near our tree.
Given our proximity to the Pentagon, I wondered if a war hawk had escaped when he learned classified messages about plans to bomb another country were sent to a reporter on a public social networking site. Nah, that would never happen.
Walking with the snow shovel toward the city trash can at the corner of our street, I decided to look at why hawks are such potent symbols.
Ra, the sun god worshiped by pharaohs in Ancient Egypt, was symbolized as a hawk. Hawks also have been described as mediators who help guide souls to the afterlife.
In Christianity, hawks are symbols of spiritual enlightenment and divine communication who tell believers to stay alert and open to God’s messages.
Jonathan Dubois, a professor at California State University-San Bernardino and archaeologist “with a passion for art and symbolism,” told Parade magazine that hawks “are known as the protectors and messengers of the air." Hawk encounters, he said, remind us to “activate our inner vision (to) see the big picture.”
I don’t know what type of message the hawk was sending when it dropped the corpse onto our sidewalk. But it definitely put me on alert, and it sure was one helluva way to start the week.
How was your week? Hope you enjoy the photos…
Event Note
If you are close to the Greater Washington, D.C. area on May 15, I hope you’ll consider joining me at a party for the formal launch of my photo book, Keep Your Distance: Walking Through the First Year of COVID.
The free event, which will feature a social hour, interview/Q&A session, and book signing, will be held from 6 to 9 p.m. Thursday at Elaine’s in Old Town Alexandria. Tickets are limited to 50 guests who sign up here.
Books will be available for purchase at the event. If you’d like to get one before then, go to this link. You also can catch up on the “Social Distancing Diary” entries I’m posting to Substack here.
Some years ago (maybe 6?) my pup and a Coopers Hawk were engaged in a stare-off: Hawk on our fence, April on our back stairs. It felt like I was watching an episode of Mutual Of Omaha’s “Wild Kingdom.” I later learned that Coopers Hawks preferred prey were other avian creatures, so April was safe.
Above the shadow is so cool. Love it Glenn