Early Thursday afternoon this red tailed hawk, clearly injured, found a perch atop a long deceased sugar gum along the south western ridge of Squire Valleevue farm.
I first encountered him in late August, 2006, shortly after he had fledged and was learning to hunt. Six years later, on a calm July morning, I observed him in a brief aerial battle with a bald eagle. The eagle, appearing as a speck on the northwest horizon, made a slow, protracted descent, gliding silently into the farm’s 400 acres of airspace. The red tail lifted without a sound from the top of a towering honey locust on the perimeter of the east meadow, quickly gaining altitude before dropping abruptly to engage the larger bird. The eagle, rolling from impact, plummeted a few feet before continuing on beyond the farm towards the eastern ridge of the Chagrin valley. The hawk declared sovereignty through its distinctive KEE-AAH, KEE-AAH scream, a piercing first shriek descending only slightly into a savage, unholy note of domination.
Several years passed before two of the farm’s staff and I witnessed a more protracted battle moments after sunrise. A few rolls and pitches and much sound and fury evidenced the only drama as neither bird appeared injured, the eagle continuing on rapidly past the farm’s boundaries.
Spotting this familiar red tail last Thursday was particularly heartening in light of our undeclared relationship over the years. What was concerning, however, was the evidence of a fight, primary feathers on his left wing broken and tail feathers torn, he may have encountered a determined eagle or perhaps an owl.
If animals could write or choose lyrics, I suspect this red tail hawk would identify with Paul Simon’s “The Boxer.”. But few boxing fans have absorbed a nose or rib crushing blow or felt the searing pain of sutured eyelids, or the savage separation of wing and tail feathers.
