Cooper's Hawk

There was a hawk perched on the railing of my deck today. The finches and sparrows scattered from the birdfeeder outside my window, and as the chickens cackled and crouched in their run, I looked up to see what was the matter. A full-grown Cooper's Hawk, happily gazing at my suburban backyard, here in the middle of North Hollywood. I've seen hawks and owls in my backyard before, but only up in the trees or telephone wires.

I take this as proof positive that I'm doing something right in the world. The garden, berry bushes, grape vines, citrus trees, and hen house are all rural California in miniature. Hummingbirds sip honey-water from the feeders, and birds rummage through millet, cracked corn, and sunflower seeds at their station. Squirrels pick through the leavings. Small creatures gracefully nibble blueberries off the branches of the bushes. It is my small patch of how life ought to be, where everyone has enough to eat because they have enough room to provide for themselves.

It reminds me of Rabbit Hill, by Robert Lawson. Here at least, there is enough for all.