The snow started in the early morning before sunrise, and it was not letting up. Several inches had fallen, and the wind was predicted to increase in velocity. Schools were closed, and the Iowa State Highway Patrol was telling people not to venture out onto the roadways. Central Iowa was in the path of a major Midwestern blizzard.
My eyes moved from the muted weather radar on the T.V. screen to the scene out the window of my den, where I saw blowing snow. There is a large and dense yew hedge on the east side of my house. It serves as a refuge for birds in this kind of weather.
Little birds were flying into the hedge, seeking shelter from the storm. Juncos, chickadees and house sparrows were flying in and working their way into the densest part of the vegetation. I could hear their constant chirping over the wind as they scurried from branch to branch in the hedge, seeking the most protection that they could find.
Suddenly, the birds stopped chirping and moving about. The only sound I heard was the wind and the pellets of snow hitting the window. Then I saw it! A hawk soared two feet over the hedge, turned, rose into the air and landed in the cedar tree about 60 feet from the house.
The hawk had an excellent perch on a bare limb, giving it a perfect view of the hedge. Through the blowing snow, I had a fairly good view of the hawk and the smaller birds that were seeking cover in the hedge.
From the markings and coloration that I saw on the bird, I could tell it was a young female Cooper’s hawk. It had probably fledged last spring. I am sure I saw its parents earlier in the year, stalking the song birds that came to my bird feeder.
Cooper’s hawks are in a group of hawks called “accipiters,” and they prey on other birds. Other hawks in this group are the sharp-shinned hawk and the goshawk. This young Cooper’s hawk was probably very hungry if it was hunting for prey so close to human habitation.
I saw the hawk drop out of the cedar tree and land on the snow between the house and the hedge — only three feet from me! I didn’t see the junco, but the hawk did. She took one big leap with a half-flap of her wings and pounced on the back of a junco.
I wanted to pound on the window to chase the hawk away, but there was nothing I could do to save the junco. The little bird was weakly flapping it wings, trying to get free from the hawk’s talons.
It seemed like a long time passed while I watched this drama unfold before me, but it was probably just a fraction of a second until the hawk bent over and with its curved, sharp beak bit the junco at the base of its neck.
There was a small drop of blood and a couple of downy feathers blowing across the snow when the hawk flew back to its perch in the cedar tree with the junco in it talons. For a few seconds, the little feathers from the junco mixed in with the blowing snowflakes.
I had mixed emotions about the drama I had witnessed. I realized that this event was just part of nature. Some creatures must die so other can live. I felt sorry for the junco, but I did not have any hostile feelings about the hawk. It had a meal that would help it to survive this cold winter day.
There is another sad side to this story. Three day later I found a dead female Cooper’s hawk by the side of the road in front of my house. It had obviously been hit by a car.
