The Rude Little Hawk

I’ve only finished the first part of  Kathleen  Gage’s “Kindle Best Seller” webinar series, but already I’ve identified several things I’ve done wrong trying to sell books, one of which is the need to make it easier for everyone to buy my book.  So my crack web designer, Janet Lackey, updated things so you can find and BUY my book with the click of your mouse.  (Your computer mouse, not your pet mouse, please).  Please note that if you do book reviews, are a relative I’ve met at least once, or of celebrity status, I’ll even send you a book for free.  

Now Kathleen Gage’s “Kindle Best Seller” has some good advice for people wanting to sell e-books like mine, but the thing is, my computer is next to two big bay windows and I get distracted by birds and squirrels and even falling snow this winter because snow is rather rare this year.  As I was listening to some of Kathleen’s good advice, I saw this mourning dove sitting on the railing of my deck.  Doves show up daily and this one was awaiting an opportunity to peck at sunflower seeds amongst a dozen hungry squirrels.  I think he looked rather cute all puffed up.

Mourning dove hanging out on the rail of my deck.

Now, I’d seen doves many times, and soon went back to Kathleen’s webinar.  She was sharing some good tips and I was so engrossed that I didn’t see the gray flash that went by my windows a half hour later.  But I know there was such a gray flash, because when I stepped outside for some fresh air I saw a small hawk 15 feet from the deck eating a dove.  The nerve!

Small hawk munching on a dove pal in my backyard.

I turned to the hawk and said, “How rude.  I knew that dove.” 

The hawk looked at me, blinked and went back to plucking the dove. 

I ran inside, grabbed my camera and sat down on the steps of my deck, and– like most people would in the same situation — chatted with the hawk for a while. 

Juvenile sharp-shined hawk well into its evening meal.

I asked if dove tasted like chicken, and also, if his food would go down better with water or some other liquid?  In response, he plucked and slurped and wiggled his neck to get his dinner down. 

Feathers seemed to get in the way of a good meal.

We hung out together for a good five minutes before the hawk grew tired of my questions and lifted off with the remainder of his dinner in foot.  How rude.  First he eats a dove pal, then he leaves behind a big mess.

Hawk leaving a big mess behind.

The rude hawk landed in a tree on the edge of my yard, so I wandered after him.  I watched in amazement as, in the process of readjusting its position on a branch . . .

Sharp-shinned hawk with dove remains. Yuck!

. . . the hawk dropped the remains of its dinner to the ground.  The hawk looked down at the remains, looked at me, fluffed his feathers for a moment, and looked away.

Bummed hawk lost its meal.

He took a moment to preen, looked at me again, and then flew off, leaving the remains of the dove on the ground.  That’s gross AND rude.

It grew dark about a half hour later and so I was able to return to writing and marketing.  In the morning, three crows appeared in the yard to fight over the remains the hawk had left behind.   I looked up from my writing long enough to thank the crows for cleaning up the remains, and to ask out the window, “Perhaps you could use a pile of feathers?”

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