There is a simple elegance to the family of predator birds. Every part of their form reveals their nature. The talons kill and grip. The beak shreds. The wings are models of stealth as they glide through the air carrying death to their victims and nourishment to their offspring and their mates.
This creature came to pay a visit on an early afternoon following a string of ungodly cold days. This fellow was probably looking for the movement of a mouse or squirrel that was daring to venture from their nest or lair. I spied him as he swiveled his head almost 360 degrees atop his stone-still body.
I started taking pictures as soon as I noticed him and stopped only as he swooped away. That covered 14 minutes.
I was happy my batteries were fresh and that my memory card was fast.
I did see him blink and I was concerned that a rare passing truck would frighten him off.
He did not move. Maybe he had hunted this spot before and was making a return trip.
I was wishing him luck.
Times can be lean when the cold keeps the prey inside. Birdsong has been scarce and even the smallest of critters have been hiding from the bite of winter's cold.
In the great scheme of things, what a sudden and quickly passing shock it would be for a varmint to peek out and see a tempting nut or berry hanging on a branch and have the thought - so brief, "That would be a nice little mor..."
Then death comes on silent wings.
© tim www.timjohnsonphoto.com
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