The long awaited summer comes bearing gifts of long lazy days, clear blue skies, bird song and laughter of children playing outdoors.
Sunshine floods the house and a cool breeze jauntily dances across each room.
The nest
It's a time of plenty. As the trees and shrubs race towards making the most of this season, so do the birds and animals.
In the woods across the road the craggy old nest - the one bastioned in the canopy - is revisited. New twigs are brought in and arranged so as to make it snug for the hatchlings, which are expected.
Cooper's hawk - a huge, graceful bird - glides in and out of the nest through the course of the day. It soars high above, swoops down, catches midair, recovers and flies towards the nest with claws full of food. It's elegant and proud. At times it sits regally on top of a roof, surveying her ‘kingdom’.
Quiet and ever vigilant.
On rare occasion it basks on some quiet balcony, wings spread out, flaunting the impressive wingspan.
making most of the morning sun
But today, looking out the window, I caught a glimpse of what at first I thought was the neighbour's dog, then quickly realized it was our proud bird from across the road - standing at attention on the ground like a drill sergeant!
It appeared even bigger and more daunting than it did in the sky.
I assumed that it had caught something and was measured to take off, but just then, it started running in a pattern. As if chasing something. Only, I could not see what it was after.
At each pause it would clutch and tear with its talons, but still, I couldn't see the prey!
Then I realized what was happening…
The hawk could hear some vole or mouse scurrying about – underground.
It was chasing that.
Clearly, there was a lot of activity underfoot and the bird was virtually hopping mad with frustration.
I watched as it ran around, stopped, clawed at the ground, pulled out bits of grass, bolted in another direction, stopped, pecked at the weeds with its beak, listened intently and then ran around some more.
The game of pursuit and defiance played on.
After a while, I looked out the window again and saw that our bird of prey, master of the skies, was nestling on the ground as comfortably and naturally as a fat old hen.
Clearly it was intent on catching the rodent and seemed to be at peace - in no hurry at all.
I was amazed to see how it focused only on the sound of the creature underground.
All the other noises, that of the delivery truck dropping the appliances two houses down, the rustling of the dry leaves which the swift morning breeze had teased out from under the hedge, or the humming of the traffic from afar, all those sounds were filtered out and the bird was listening only to the whispers beneath the grass.
I liked the way the story was unfolding thus far and decided to think up of possible outcomes also, preferably, a moral to the story as well.
I thought if the bird eventually catches the mouse it would be justly rewarded for its tireless, single minded pursuit.
Thus, dedication and conviction bear fruit.
But, if the mouse outruns the bird's patience and manages to evade the sharp claws then there is something to be said about the timid, yet safe, mode of existence.
Hence, there is merit in clinging to the familiar and comfortable.
I had neatly tied up the endings and was feeling quite smug with myself.
But just then, as I looked out one more time, I found that nature had thrown another interesting twist to the story.
Gingerly perched at the edge of the terrace banister was a delicate, very nervous looking dove.
It was all too aware of the hawk and the hawk, too, eyed it with obvious vexation - she was torn between choices now.
I did not see this coming.
There was a knock at the door.
When I rushed back to the window. Both the birds were gone.
Go figure!