The binoculars provided a much closer view of the trees across the street, and the hawk seemed to know he was being spied upon. He turned slowly, as if to make sure I saw the color of his feathers and the shape of his head from every angle. He was handsome and knew it!

Suddenly, he took off into the air and flew in a wide circle before roosting on the top of a huge evergreen. I swear he looked right at me as he settled majestically on the peak of the tree. As I watched from my balcony, a blue jay flew out from a lower branch of the same tree and began fluttering around Papa Hawk’s head, taking jabs at him and squawking. I was amazed at the audacity of the small bird.

The hawk ignored the intrusion; the blue jay persisted.

The battle continued, until the hawk seemed to grow weary of the noise. He rocked his head left to right in annoyance; the blue jay measured its distance but kept up the racket. Papa Hawk raised his wings, spread them out from his frame, and caught the next wave of wind. He gracefully traveled across the road and landed on top of the light post in front of my balcony.

The blue jay swooped down from the top of the evergreen to a lower branch and disappeared, probably to a hidden nest it was protecting. It surprised me to see the hawk give way to the noisy, little bird.

Is persistence than greater in nature than strength of size? Next, I’ll introduce you to Mama Hawk, and we’ll see if she has any answers.