Snow! And ice! And freezing temperatures! Everywhere! Do you have them too? I've been quite elated (except for that part where the weather cancelled our plans to go out of town of a day or two — wah) by the cold and am enjoying every minute of it. I love it. We've only really had one day of snow and many days of cold, but they say there might be more snow on the way today.
What do you think of my hawk picture??? Weirdest thing: Meems and I were setting out for a long walk on Sunday afternoon. About a block away from the house I saw the light shining through those seed pod things and wanted to take a picture of them. I debated going back for my camera; I almost didn't. We went back, got it, took a snap of the pods, and we continued on our way. It was strangely quiet. Amelia was asleep in the stroller. It was sunny and very cold, and for some reason (I guess no one wanted to go out in it) I could hardly hear any traffic (usually it's quite loud) and we hadn't seen a single car. I thought about what our neighborhood was like when it was just woods. I used to think this about my neighborhood at home, too; when you look at those giant oak trees, you feel like you can see settlers. The sun shone low in the sky behind bare branches. We walked another few blocks when suddenly there was the most awful and startling noise: bird violence, and in the air. I'd never heard the sound before, but I knew what it was somehow. I thought I'd seen a swoop and a flash some ways up the road but I couldn't be sure. We turned the corner and there, in the middle of the street — a Cooper's hawk, straddling a bluejay, the pair of them all giant wings and eyes. I stopped in my tracks, and an oncoming car rolled quietly toward us all, and stopped a few feet from the birds. We were all frozen, when suddenly the jay sprang back to life and made a break for it. He darted, low and sharp, toward the houses, stunned to be flying. The hawk casually hopped into a tree and looked around: Oh well. He cleaned something off his chest. I dove for my camera, tucked into that (maddening) net basket under the stroller and started snapping pictures as fast as I could. He was about twenty or thirty feet from me, not more. I snapped and snapped, amazed that he sat. Snap snap snap. I could see a very bundled couple walking their dog coming toward me. Snapsnapsnap. I tried to wave them off, knowing they would flush him, but they didn't understand my waves and points. He sat in the tree until they got right up to it, oblivious to him, and then he flapped off. They noticed the camera and said something polite like, "Oh, how nice, a crow" and I was apoplectic with frustration, excitement, and delight, sputtering, "It was a HAWK!!!" Oh! I showed them the photos on my camera's little LCD screen. Wow! Cool! We each told our only hawk stories from the neighborhood — it's so rare to see one! They watched one divebombing at the park a few years ago; I saw one other in our front yard tree one afternoon, and thought I was hallucinating. It made my day.
City peeps. We need to get out more, don't we!!! :)