As dusk settled in yesterday, I saw something unusual in the corner of our back yard at the fence line. Our neighbor's white poodle was tentatively investigating from her side. She didn't bark at me as I approached. I suspect she was as unnerved and befuddled by what was there as I was.
A hawk. On its back. The photo above is as I found it. No sign of trauma. Nothing to make its death make sense. My only guess is electrocution. The squirrels around here nest near dangerous places. She was below a pole with high voltage.
There had to be a protocol for reverently handling the remains of this great bird, right? I did the only thing I could think of doing. I smudged it with sage. This brought me some peace and bought me some time. Then a wise friend suggested taking it to the woods and reminded me that nature knew what to do. So my husband and I drove it to our neighborhood greenspace over which it had likely soared its whole life. As I placed the limp body at the base of a small tree, I realized that this once strong and powerful creature was the softest thing I have ever touched in my whole life.
I don't know what it means, if it means anything at all. What I do know is that something like this doesn't happen everyday. Some things cannot be discarded or disregarded. For that I am so grateful.
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