A few years back, four to be exact, I wrote a blog post about a hawk and a rock. Here’s the link:
It was a sweet little ditty about all manner of creatures who would sit on the rock that peeked out of my river while a Red-tailed hawk watched from his perch high in an oak tree.
Well, once again it’s time for my Poetry Corner, starring my hawk, although I can’t be sure it’s the same hawk.
The Hawk and the Duck
Ahem. (virtually clearing my throat)
There once was a hawk. A Red-tail it is called; Who hunted over the river by day. His beak it was sweet (and by sweet I mean sharp, but I couldn't find anything to rhyme with feet), As were the talons on his feet; Like razors, they could slice through duck meat. One day the hawk he did spy, A flock of ducks all in a bunch. The hawk he did cry, From high up in the sky, 'By jove, I think it's time for lunch!' The hawk he did come, And the ducks they did run, To the river for safety they fled. Except for one fat duck, With a waddle too slow; She would soon have a hawk on her head. The hawk he did swoop, And I'm sure the duck she did poop; When the talons they closed round her neck. Though the duck she did squirm, Our hawk's grip it held firm; The duck would be toast in one sec. The old lady did shout, But the hawk he held out. With no fear in his eyes, He must have surmised, The old lady wasn't worth his time; Not when duck du jour was on the line. The dog, oh the dog, Who had been laying in the sun, Thinking he would join in the fun, A Bounding he did come. 'Screw this,' the hawk called. 'This is truly a bore.' And away on feathered wings he did soar. The story it ends, On a note bittersweet; Because, the hawk never did get to eat. But the duck, she was lucky, And waddled away all plucky; As she quacked, 'I'm free, I'm free, I'm free!'
So, this is how it all went down. I was working on a new YouTube video about pruning powdery mildew off tall Summer Phlox (You do subscribe to my YouTube channel, right?) when I heard a commotion behind me. That would be the noise at the beginning of the video, which was caused by the flock of ducks taking off from the yard when the hawk swooped in.
I walked across the driveway, camera still in my hand and still on record, when I spied the Red-tailed hawk sitting on one of my ducks. You can see in the video that Harlee has no idea what the heck is going on. The rest of the story is pretty self-explanatory. As for the shaky cam? Pretend you’re watching one of the Bourne movies.
Oh, by the way, the duck is fine.
And the hawk? Well, he’s still hanging around.
Only, now the American eagle is doing flybys.
Sigh, my ducks don’t stand a chance.
Blessed be :}
Mi manchi, mio immortale.