This spring, a couple of Cooper’s hawks made a nest in our tree, and in mid July, the babies started “branching.” At first the process looked a lot like falling. These messy creatures were half feather, half fluff – like something that had accidentally gone through the dryer. One spent hours teetering on a window sill. At dusk, he threw himself into a bush and, wings flapping, climbed up and up until he was close enough to jump back into his tree.
Eventually they became sleek, daredevil teens, swooping through the yard, dropping bits of their freshly caught meals (legs, wings, body parts.) They stalked the edges of the pool and sometimes sat on the edge with their tail feathers drifting in the water. But they still misjudged the distance between the highest branch and the top of the garage. They plowed awkwardly into the shrubs and chased each on the lawn. Their bright yellow legs, tucked elegantly for flight reveal themselves as long and gangly at a run. Ridiculous one moment, majestic the next.
To beat the heat, I’ve been waking early to hike up into the park. The clouds are sometimes low but sheer, leaving the sky a layer of bright blue like satin beneath chiffon. I’ve been training the dogs — the little one barks his head off at all dogs and the big one is shy. When we meet another canine on the trail, I drop tiny treats and say, “find it, find it.” It’s a distraction that keeps the little dog from losing his mind and the big dog from clinging to my leg. This activity reduces my worries, too and also points my attention to the ground at my feet. The dogs find treats and I find blossoms, parachute seed pods, and a glimpse of lizard tail.
Along with all the finding and finding, this summer, I notched another birthday and celebrated the 90th birthday of my beloved father-in-law. I joined my husband and many friends on the WGA strike line, travelled to New Mexico for my cousin’s wedding, hung out with dear pals Jamele Wright, Sr. and Nicole Parcher from last summer’s residency at Virginia Center for Creative Arts, and continued my unofficial quest to learn a little more about my city and my fellow humans.
You can buy a very cool STRIKE shirt made from a lino print by my husband. All proceeds go to the Entertainment Community Fund which provides emergency financial assistance to individuals in entertainment regardless of their profession within the industry or union affiliation.
I helped the kids ready for another year of college. I spoke to my pal, Kari O’Driscoll on her podcast and saw my writing in The Keepthings, Statement Magazine, Luxe, and The Los Angeles Review of Books. I finished another draft of my memoir and finally shared it with a few readers. I had some questions. Do you see what I’m trying to do? Am I making any sense?
Our hawks have matured. They don’t spend much time in our yard these days and, while I’m glad for a reprieve from clearing half-eaten critters from the patio, I miss having a front row seat to their daily growth. I miss their energy. Sometimes, while I sit with my coffee or hunch over the crossword, I hear their high, whistling call. When I hike my trail into the hills of Griffith Park, I anticipate a flash of wings.
I love this and can’t wait to read your new book!
❤️ Lovely, Tanya. Must've been incredible to watch those baby hawks mature. I've become very entranced with the birds in our yard. I hung up a couple of feeders and added a bird bath. There's a pair of Red Whiskered Bulbuls that visit the yard often and sing the prettiest duets.