Steven Hawking

Here in out own little corner of heaven, in the middle of the city, so center of the city it is named "Mid-City West" we have a thriving wildlife population. Raccoons, squirrels, possum, our koi pond, many little song birds and now... the hawks.
Last year we noticed one hawk. When he would fly overhead the entire yard would go eerily silent. This year, he has returned and brought with him a mate.
They are very bold, not very afraid (why should they be?) and like to bathe in the stream leading to the koi pond. I know they see our bird feeder as a tasty buffet. Lyle says it's all just a part of nature but I am no fan of witnessing the circle of life from a front row seat.

A couple of days ago, I was lying in bed reading and there was a flutter of wings as both hawks flew straight for the house, then pulled up short and landed on the sun umbrella on the back deck, leading me to scream, "Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy SHITTTT!" Because I was certain the flimsy screen between me and the outside world would be no match for the talons of these birds and they would soon be creating my own personal version of "The Birds" in my bedroom.

Lucky for me, they prefer smaller prey.
It's a crazy world I live in.