Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
I was fascinated by the combination of hawks on the big transmission towers from the first time I saw them, this picture is from last year after we had been here for six weeks. I had only seen my first Harris’s hawk a couple of weeks prior so they were still a complete mystery to me then and didn’t have the strong emotional attachment they do now. On that morning I also saw my first bobcat, it seems that day in May has more than one connection to this November weekend.
As I shuffled up the Vaquero Trail this morning I suspected clouds in the east would snuff out the sunrise, and I was mostly correct, until I heard a familiar call and looked to the south. One of the Harris’s hawks I watched this spring and summer was perched high on one of the transmission towers that run across the Preserve, some of the clouds behind glowing orange. I got a little sunrise after all.
It’s a shame I’m scared of heights to the point I don’t like being at the top of a ladder, as if I’m reading this sign correctly climbing the tower gives you the ability to fly and shoot lightning from your fingertips. Seems like those powers could come in handy.
Boolie 