Tonight I stood on the lawn as I heard a whoosh and a hawk swooped by lower than I’d ever seen one before. It held something in its claws. Too hard to tell whether it was a bird or a squirrel or something else. White feathers fell on the patio as the hawk gained altitude. Its victim must have come from the part of our yard behind me, where the Squirrel Palace feeding station lies.
The squirrels and mourning doves feeding on the patio in front of me scattered in a heartbeat as the hawk revealed itself.
Iggy and I are sad. We lost a friend.