Jagged Wing, the hawk

Hawks frequently circle high above our garden. There is abundant bird life here, which means lots of nests and little ones learning the ropes. Fledglings are wobbly for a while in the take off and landings, and not always vigilant when they’re down on the ground. We also have swathes of long grass around, so lots of habitat for mice and rats. It’s good pickings for a hawk.

In spring, the hawks come down from their great heights and make passes through the garden. They fly just higher than a single-storey house, skimming our 5 metre high cherry trees. I have looked right at them as they fly past my upstairs window. 

Sometimes, we collide. I’ll be coming from one part of the garden and emerge from behind a shrub to see one flying toward me. It sees me and veers off or up, and I’m left with my arm out, silently willing it back. I long for a close encounter.

I think I can tell two of these hawks apart from the others. One has a particularly pale breast. Juveniles have uniformly dark undersides, which become striped as they mature. But as they age, they become white. I think it is a female, being slightly larger than others I see. I call her The Queen. I love the idea of a matriarch looking down on us, even if she is looking to kill. 

The other hawk I routinely see has flight feathers (known as remiges) missing from her right wing. She is a definitely a she, and the biggest hawk I’ve seen. The splayed feathers of a hawk usually look thick and impermeable, like the solid wing of a plane or the webbed patagium of a bat. This hawk looks like her wing has been carved by a knife; she’s been sliced.

I’m writing about her now because she just flew right by my window. At least, I think it was her. As she tilted to skim around the elm tree her other wing came into view, and it too was jagged. She was silhouetted against the darkening sky. Her legs hung loosely below her; thick, puffed things that make me think of bloomers, with thin bony shins and feet. I could even glimpse her talons. She looks all-knowing and dangerous. She’s a crone, wearing leather, on a motorbike. Or, if it’s not her—if this is some other hawk entirely—then she has new and fierce company; a new rider in the sky.