Lots of things live back there - deer, shy woodchucks, raccoons, coyotes (altho I admit I only hear them and have never seen them), squirrels aplenty including a sweet black one, field mice and the usual assortment of bugs. What amazes me is the diversity held in just this tiny little speck of land. Was it always like that? Or were these species forced into closer and closer proximity as Wonderbreadtown tried to squeeze them out of existence?
It is the birds who call it home that I am watching today. Oh there are the usual cardinals, jays, sparrows, finches, titmice (plural? singular? not even goin there), and nuthatches who seem to live there year round. A couple of owls call it home. I haven't met them yet, so I don't know what kind they are. This morning though I noticed a different kind of bird hanging out there in the sighing space. Kind of a slatey blue. Some rusty coloration. Strongly barred. When he turned his head toward me, I noticed the small hooked beak that marked him as a raptor, a bird of prey, and knew I was looking at a kestrel. His small body belying his predatory nature. He owned his fierce beauty like only a raptor can. Kestrel are found pretty much everywhere, but I will admit this is only the second or third time I have seen one. He is stunning. He owns the woods for those moments he is perched there. I certainly can only look at him. Only see him. Nor do I really want to look away. I recognize that he probably won't stay and want to indulge my spirit in this morning I get to share with him.It seems even a fierce predator needs the sighing space.
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