Nat

My favorite of Gary Larsen’s Far Side cartoons shows several hawks, eagles, owls, and vultures in the branches of a large tree. It’s winter, so there aren’t leaves, and the birds are wearing James Dean-style leather jackets, sunglasses, and Walkman headphones. Most are smoking cigarettes. The caption reads, “Birds of Prey Know They’re Cool.”

The great thing about raptors is that they are hard to anthropomorphize. They are clearly just what they are. Perfectly designed for the way they live. Lethal. Graceful. I think of Blake’s line , “fearful symmetry.”

In winter, the highway I drive to work attracts many red shouldered hawks. They cruise the median, which is lush and wide, to hunt the many small animals that live there, undisturbed by predators from outside the highway. Mostly I see the hawks perched high in trees, but last week, one flew alongside my car, gliding over the shrubs looking for prey. It kept pace with me for several yards at 65 miles per hour, or it seemed to.

What eerie beauty in that bird. It made no sound, barely flapped its wings. It was speed and economy of motion. These birds are the only wildness I see on a workday. They remind me how much there is outside. Outside of my office building. Outside of my career, my species, my civilization.

I’m still waiting to see an eagle in the wild.