Yesterday just after dawn, as I was sitting at the dining room table writing by candlelight, a dark shape flew by in the corner of my eye, and slammed into one of the windows to my left. As fast as I could jump up, I ran to the window and saw a predator bird face down on the brick patio that was to be repaired on Labor Day.
The bird sat up, blinked, blinked again, still fierce but also confused. In its beak was moss from its face-plant on the patio bricks after hitting the window. A hawk, swooping down to pick off one of the many chipmunks living near the fireplace, had miscalculated the reflection in the window.
I ran muttering about the house, "My camera, my camera, my camera..." grabbed the case from the purse on the couch, pulled out the camera and turned it on to discover a dead battery. "The battery, the battery, the battery..." I said, as I threw the camera on the table and went in search for the bag of electronics, cords and batteries. Found it, unzipped and took out the replacement battery, loaded it in the camera and ran back to the window.
The hawk was still there, blinking. Then I opened the door to get a better view.
Happy to say the hawk flew off into the neighboring trees, wobbly and without chipmunk, but alive.
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