With little inspiration coming from the plants in my gardens this winter month, a day is spent watching the movements of the fauna within.
The scene opens atop a majestic tree, focused on a perched Red-tail Hawk surveying the landscape in search of a meal. A quick pan of the ground in front of my window reveals a mouse, the unsuspecting, soon-to-be victim of the bird of prey. The rodent is chewing an acorn, the pasty nut from a Pin Oak I planted when the property was first developed. Seemingly safe in its surroundings, it is about to experience first-hand, the reality of its place on our food chain.
In an effortless and frightening swoop from on high, the hungry hunter snatches its meal and boomerangs back to perch, completing its attack without a talon touching the ground. Nearly instantly killed, no struggle was involved. No plants were harmed during the assault.
***
Prowling through my and neighbor’s gardens, a lone hungry coyote sniffs for its lunch. A discernable bouquet of scents include a wood rat, squirrels, and a snake hiding somewhere within the groundcover. At top speed, the canine can catch any of its chosen prey. This day belonged to the rat.
Without the Hawk’s precision, a clear, audible struggle takes place before the rodent succumbs. Not much, but enough to perk the ears of a red Cardinal picking seeds from an ornamental grass in the perennial bed.
***
A rabbit emerges at the edge of the Hydrangea bed, cautiously sniffing the air for potential danger. Constantly aware of its vulnerability, it negotiates a quick path toward a favorite and reliable food source; our vegetable garden. It deftly negotiates a gap in the wire fence and quickly enters in our manicured land of plenty. Though not as robust an offering as in July, the garden still has root vegetables and hardy herbs from which to choose.
Turnip appetizer, parsley and sage intermezzo and a leek main satisfy its hunger. A successful day’s excursion for the bunny, but its movements were noted by both the coyote and hawk and stored for future reference.
***
At the end of this day, I needed to get to the local market for ingredients to cook my family’s evening meal.
Passing bins of overflowing vegetables and cheeses, I stop at the butcher counter, which offered nothing as exotic as Hawk or interesting as Rabbit. Only the long-ago mundane choices of cow, pig and fowl.
Identifying a piece of meat only by way of label, I choose a piece of chicken, waiting for me on a Styrofoam tray, wrapped in plastic.
Recalling the required and cunning abilities of the predators I watched earlier, I realized that all I needed to bring home the bacon was a single hand, to grab my wallet out of my jeans pocket.
The trickiest part of my hunt was the getaway back to the nest. It absolutely rivaled the others’ in skill. A death defying, adrenaline-pumping, white-knuckled flight across three lanes of rush hour traffic.