A young Cooper’s Hawk hunting on Thanksgiving Day. She had found the one place under the cover of the sleeping woods that was illuminated by the low, autumn sun. Birds called from the thickets beneath her.
In the bottom photograph she launched herself at a bird in the brush between us and came up empty. The woods fell silent. She then flew right past me to try her luck in a marshy area just beyond the trees. When I last saw her, she had returned to the shelter of the woods, where once again smaller birds called from the undergrowth, seemingly unaware of her presence.