It all started with this . . . . .

Before I begin, I must caution my readers that if you are squeamish, skip this entry. I think we all understand that nature has a way of working, though some of its 'workings' aren't exactly for the faint of heart.


It all started with DJ noticing the pile of feathers near the bird feeder at the screened porch. He pointed this out to me as we were headed down to the dock (to take pictures of the bulkhead-in-progress). (I was just excited to get outside and see a very bright yellow circle in the sky that caused me to squint when looked at directly.) Well, we start snapping pictures of the bulkhead (which I promise to post soon), when I noticed what appeared to be a branch on the communal dock (two docks over). What was funny is that although the wind was strong, the 'branch' wasn't moving. I squinted and exclaimed, "DJ! Is that a predatory bird over there?" Sure enough, it was and it didn't want to move. DJ walked closer and closer, yet the only thing the bird did was turn to face his direction.

Then, we saw it. This broad winged hawk was trying to enjoy lunch a la waterfront. There, in its grasp, was the remnants of a larger bird (probably pigeon or mourning dove). Mr. Hawk was not going to give up his seat at the Hidden Harbor Cafe, so we grabbed the binoculars and just observed. Yes, I spied on a bird trying to eat his lunch.

After about 20 minutes (and some pictures), we went inside to watch football. Two hours later, we get a call from our neighbor across the harbor who asked if the bird might be injured. The hawk was still at his table. We went to investigate and found him in the final stages of defeathering and feasting. Ugh. It would be another hour and a half before Mr. Hawk finally vacated his table at Hidden Harbor Cafe.

It was a fascinating experience. I never thought I'd be the person who would, for the better half of an afternoon, marvel at Mother Nature, her creatures and her lessons. I am honored to have been given this time to view nature up close and hope it is the first of many such opportunities here in coastal Carolina. However, I do feel a tinge of guilt over the fact that it all started at our feeder. Does that make me an accomplice to murder or survival?