Carrie’s Painting of the Week
Reservoir Sunrise
A pair of hawks is nesting in the trees along the driveway.
They are beautiful creatures, red-tailed hawks with enormous wingspans. They soar and circle effortlessly, their high-pitched cries tearing at the morning’s quiet.
I am excited to see them, excited to have them in our yard.
But I’m worried, too.
Every summer, bluebirds nest in houses along our back fence. Woodpeckers come for suet, gold finches for thistle, chickadees and cardinals and bluebirds, orioles and titmice and house finches, sparrows and bluejays and grosbeaks and more all visit our feeders.
And this year, they could be in danger.
Maybe the hawks are far enough from the feeders. Maybe the feeders are close enough to the house. Maybe there are enough moles and voles, chipmunks and squirrels, field mice and bunnies to keep the hawks happy. Maybe the hawks will go hunt in the nature preserve that borders our land.
But maybe they won’t.
I look at the hawks, soaring above the yard, and I feel something inside me that is as wild as they are, as predatory, as simple. It is the thing that fights for what I believe, that protects my daughter and grandchildren, that loves with abandon and strives with ferocity. It’s pretty deep in me, most of the time, but it is there, close enough to be summoned. Close enough to rise up on its own.
There is more in me that is like the yard birds, twittery and flighty, more tame than wild, willing to take a chance to get a good meal.
In most of us, I think, the balance is pretty much like that. The hawk is there, but down deep.
I will watch, this summer, and I will hope. I will move the feeders closer to the house. I will be ready to defend our yard birds. Everyone deserves to live, and I will do what I can to make sure that everyone does.
Interested in this painting? It’s oil on canvas, 24×24. Contact me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for price and delivery information.
Tags: Carrie Jacobson
