I have a family of hawks in my neighborhood. The “babies” have a raspy, loud voice when they are hungry. One morning I saw mama or papa perched on top of an antenna. The babies were insistently crying to be fed. What sounds like a vulture’s cry is in fact the baby hawks.
A monsoon storm blew in quickly and fiercely. I watched a hawk get blown back by the outflow wind and into the pine tree. I got to see the full span of the hawk’s wings and the beautiful pattern of its feathers. This hawk stayed huddled on the pine branch. It appeared to scrape its beak on the bark or else eat bugs while riding out the storm. Another hawk flew in and perched on a branch higher up. It appeared these were the parents. I don’t know where the babies were. Eventually the hawk flew away.
When I pay attention to the world outside my window, I see these stories unfolding that show the intricate connections of nature.