The Lighthouse Keeper
BY DANIEL W. DRAKE ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
Apair of red-tails is nesting in a big pine tree about 75 feet from the house. Their well-disguised nest is hidden in a crotch formed by the trunk and a large branch. The casual viewer would not even realize the birds are there unless he or she happened to hear a squawk that emanates from the nest from time to time or was watching when the pair exchanges places; one mate taking the place of the other incubating the eggs while the one which is released goes off to look for prey or soar the thermals.

The exchange is amazingly quick. Unlike human parents turning the care of their young over to someone else, no time is wasted on exchanges of information. (Maybe that comes later when the eggs hatch and the growing young need to be transported off to diving practice.) The returning bird swoops in, pretty much disappearing into the pine needles, and the other immediately takes off. Presumably, the reason for this quick hand-over is to attract as little attention as possible.

Red-tails nested in the same place last year, but apparently it didn't work out well. After the three-to-four week incubation period, the birds left the nest and didn't return. Hopefully, this year the end result will be successful.

Over the weekend, before the nor'easter set in, I was gazing into the backyard seeking inspiration for this week's dissertation. I noticed a red-tail sitting on the gate at the back of the yard. Normally the only function the gate serves, other than as a barrier to quick access to the compost pile, is as a jump for deer seeking the goodies which any decent backyard should provide. That day, though, the hawk was perched there, ruffling its feathers from time to time and swiveling its head around, keeping a watchful eye on things.

I wondered if it was my friend from a couple of prior conversations or perhaps a stranger that was just a watchful member of the team from the nest in the tree. I opened the door and started to make my way towards the hawk, walking slowly and with care not to make any abrupt motions. When I was about twenty feet away, the bird's head turned and its eyes fixed on me with a beady stare.

"If you think you are trying to sneak up on me, you are doing a lousy job of it," the hawk screeched. "I saw you watching me from the house."

"I should have known better," I said. "I wasn't sure if it was you."

"What a dumb thing to say. Of course it's me. Who else would it be? I thought you were smarter than that. I remember you. How come you don't remember me?"

I didn't know how to respond to the bird's observation. I didn't want to admit that I had no idea how to distinguish one red-tail from another, especially from afar. I took a leap of faith.

"How are things going in the nest?"

The bird seemed to relax a bit. "Everything seems to be OK. We won't really know for a few more days. With the storm coming, we are probably going to rock and roll a bit up in the tree, but we should be fine."

"Yes," I said. "It can't be a lot of fun up there in a high wind. I don't like heights much, and, while I don't get seasick as a rule ... Well, never mind."

The bird replied, "If you don't think about it, you are fine. It's not bad. At least eggs don't kick.

"While you are sitting up there," it continued, "you kind of review the day. You see a lot of things when you are flying around. Some are good; some not so good. A bird gets a pretty balanced perspective that most people just don't have. So, while you are on the nest, you have a chance to mull over what you have seen.

"Just as an example, I got a bit outside my usual territory the other day. Actually, I was chased by a kingbird. Those things can be nasty! Anyhow, once I had shaken that nuisance, I looked down and saw the most beautiful sight."

"What was that?" I asked, eager to hear what one of these birds would consider beautiful, other than a fat mouse in the middle of an open field.

"I looked down and saw all these flowers in a place where there didn't use to be any. They were just out there by the rotary and along the new bike path. In fact all of the new landscaping out there is really nice. The trees that were just planted are great. Some day, they may even give a little shade to hitchhikers waiting for a ride."

"I'm glad you take in things like that," I replied. "I also think it's wonderful. I hope everyone else has noticed and appreciates the effort that went intro making the area look nice. There is more to do, but it's a great start.

"What else has struck you?" I asked. "I am very interested in the sorts of things that catch your eye."

"Well, when I'm not concentrating on the task at hand, I like to watch people," my friend said. "People are so weird.

"You know what I mean," the bird continued, "humans are always tripping over themselves. They are awfully clumsy, any way you look at it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, here's a small example. Sometimes, when I have nothing better to do, I read that paper you write for. I was amazed last week that one of your columnists was taking potshots at another. If that wasn't maladroit, I don't know what is."

Not wanting to touch that sentiment, and certainly having no idea what maladroit means, I took my leave with a lame excuse about going to watch some old car parade. I wished the hawk well in the coming storm and asked one last question as I was leaving. I asked the hawk, "Do you by any chance have a name?"

I could swear the hawk blushed. "Yes, it's Humphrey. But, Raptora, my mate, calls me 'Hawkeye'."

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The "Lighthouse Keeper" reflects the views of the author and does not necessarily represent the editorial position of The Nantucket Independent. Please send any comments to drake@nantucketindependent.com.

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