21 01 2008

Our resident marsh hawk has it all wrong. Hunched atop our garden pergola, above the swaying bird feeders, he must think he’ll pluck an easy breakfast this frigid morning. But he’s such an odd figure, ridiculous, puffed out against the harsh wind. No birds come. He waits. No birds. He waits some more. Nothing. Finally he flies away. Within a couple of minutes, the feeders buzz with chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals. What the hawk doesn’t understand is something I heard John Elder say, “If you want to get struck by lightning, you have to sit out in the field every day.”




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