Marshmellow

A little collection of feathers.  Most likely they belonged to a hawk, a goldfinch, and a cardinal.

Today we finished up two of these screens.  In the past, I used old screen doors, and when the screens caved in, I stapled on chicken wire.  When the wood fell apart, I just bought some orchard netting.  But, it wasn't enough.

I didn't even use chicken wire this time, but went all the way with hardware cloth.

The hawk that came down was a big red tail.  I'd say he was a good two feet tall.  I'd seen him before, overhead, a mammoth white breast high in the trees.  They say that his eyesight is good enough to read a newspaper from way up there.  If he could read.

Hawks amaze me.

Once I had three in a tree above my head.

A family probably.  And I knew what they were waiting for.  But, I was onto them, and they knew it, and they left.  

That was several summers ago.

This time, the two-foot mammoth came down and killed my dear little bunny we called Marshmellow, a puff ball of a girl with a sooty little toasted nose.  Mr. Hawk burst right through the netting, turned over the thatch hut hideaway and sent the others scrambling. Marshmellow always was awkward and slow. The clumsy step-sister we called her.  The one who liked to cuddle and purr.  The foolish one who, when sensing danger, tried to flatten herself against the ground and disappear, which would work in the arctic or Siberia.

In the end, there was too much net and too much me, screaming and flapping, and Mr. Hawk took flight without so much as a bite of his prize whose little soul had flown up beyond the branch he perched on, waiting, half heartedly I'm sure,  as I secured the others back in the hutch.

We buried her near Pie, a young little rabbit who died unexpectedly in night the way a rabbit sometimes will.

What is it about rabbits?  Harmless, pea-brained little beasts.  Fragile little bottom-of-the-food-chain dears.  So appealing though.  Irresistible, even.

It isn't fair to keep rabbits cooped up in a hutch (even a big hutch).  They need to run about.  So, we built some screens and move ahead.

Binky free, little one!

Summer Time

     A few mornings ago as I was going out the back door to leash up the dog for a run, this huge hawk startled me by flying low across the top of my garage.  It was pretty clear that it had been sitting on our lawn eating (!) and when it heard the door, it startled and flew to a near branch to finish its repast.  (The dog was oblivious, focused on all the tale-tell signs of a run--headphones, plastic bag, leash--oh yes!!)
After the hawk finished eating (squirrel? chipmunk? rat?!), it lifted and flew and then an even bigger, second hawk took off from a branch right above me and joined it, confirming my theory that this was a juvenile  red-tail hawk because of its white front.  But whoa!  What a start to the day!
     I love hawks, but they do interfere with my backyard bird watching because when they are around (and I suspect their nest may actually be in my yard), all the other birds lie low.  The squirrels too literally lie perfectly still and flat against a tree branch--a funny sight for creatures that are seemingly in continuous motion.  I'll have to see if I can get a picture of one some day.

     I love having time in summer to run, to read, to crochet, and to eat delicious food!!  Nothing says summer quite like bruschetta with homegrown tomatoes and basil and salty Parma prosciutto next to the  sweet taste of melon.

     All I need now is a little malvasia bianca (wine) and some torta fritta. Ah! Next summer perhaps.