Coopers Hawk and Lost Focus
Not long ago, I was meeting with a co-worker whose office is on the window side of the building where I work in downtown Indianapolis.
As we were discussing some now-forgotten work-related topic, I noticed a large bird dive down into the dumpster area behind a building across the street. For me, a birder, that completely derailed whatever we were talking about.
I blurted out, “Bird!” and pointed. My co-worker turned to humor me, no doubt unimpressed, and looked where I was pointing. The bird then popped up from behind the fence surrounding the dumpster and perched. I noticed that it had missed the starling it had been after.
I tried to create a teachable moment by explaining that this was a Coopers hawk, and that they are beneficial because they help rid the downtown area of pigeons, controlling what could become a pesky and messy problem. They feed primarily on other smaller birds and have had some measure of success adapting to cities.
My co-worker smiled, but I got the impression that he was just being polite. I get that a lot.
The hawk stayed for a few more minutes, looking around for new snacking possibilities. It then flew straight up to perch on a railing near the top of the building. I watched it with fascination. This was a big deal to me. I don’t get the chance to observe them downtown very often as I usually just see rock doves, European starlings, and house sparrows, with the occasional robin; the biodiversity in the concrete jungle leaves a lot to be desired!
I had completely lost track of what I was talking to myco-worker about. I was now completely focused on the hawk. It had happened again: the uncontrollable loss of focus on your surroundings caused by an unknown bird coming into view.
This happens to me in conversations- often. I’ll be babbling on about something while scanning the surroundings for movement. I know others that suffer from this, and I can say we don’t mean to come across as not paying attention to you. We’re listening to you, even if we are not looking at you. I’m pretty sure I inherited this affliction from my dad but as a birder, it’s a pretty useful trait to have.
My Dad is a fantastic birder. He can tell you the common name, Latin name and various factoids about the nature around us, with maybe even a poem or two thrown in for good measure. This has always amazed me.
I remember when I was much younger, walking through his woods in northern Indiana with him. He would rattle off various names of plants as we walked by. He’d say, “This is bloodroot. It gets its name from the red fluid that comes out when you break the stem. This is a trillium,...” etc. I remembered some of those plant names but forgot most. They just didn’t stick in my young brain.
He’d then stop and point off into the distance at some invisible object and say, “Listen.” A bird would sound. “Woodthrush,” he’d say.
Back at the office, through that co-workers window, I watched as the hawk finally flew off to search for its next meal elsewhere. I watched it disappear behind another building, and a puff of birds took off in panic as the cooper’s hawk rounded the corner. I smiled with satisfaction.
It is now my turn to be the dad and try to share with my own kids what Indiana has to offer whenever I can. I’m sure I have my own habits that embarrass my children (listening to bird calls in the car stands out).
Helping others experience birding, hiking, or fishing and teaching them to understanding conservation are some of the best things you can do for them. Whether it is with a tolerant co-worker or with an eager child, you never know.
It just might lead to a life-long appreciation for the outdoors.
Photo: Stockfresh