Predator Visitor

Hickory and I were making a trip over to the table in hopes of more treats when two decks over the birds abruptly scattered. In case you didn’t know, that means one thing: Danger!

We froze.

The shadow swooped low, fluttered his wings and rose to perch on a vine trellis, not three feet from the table!

Cooper's Hawk

“Cooper’s Hawk,” whispered Hickory.

“I know,” I muttered back. We didn’t move our pressed flat bodies from the gray camouflaging rails. For long minutes he sat and stared, turning his head this way and that. Finally, he lifted off.

We watched his wings beat in perfect stillness, waiting just like every other hidden critter in the backyard. As he rose over the row of townhouses and disappeared, we looked at each other, mirror images of bristly fur. Hickory shook first, then I did, and we ran to our leaf nests.


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