My friend Aaron stopped by the other day with this baby Cooper's Hawk in a box nest. He's a falconer and has decided to take it to the next level with a little chick. She is really quite sweet. I decided the bird was in her hawk-ward stage, with all her fluffly white adolescent feathers. Aaron said she's like a play-dough press, just pushing out feathers. She eats and grows, constantly. Everyday she changes colors, shedding her dandelion fluff and making real feathers for flying.
So, since people need to eat, just like hawks...we took the bird to the Weary Traveler, our local hangout. The joke starts like this, so, two redheads and a hawk walk into a bar....The bird just sat on her nest, on the booth...watching us eat our walleye and caeser. She was quiet as a mouse and the waitress even took a while to notice her. Everyone was really fascinated...I thought it interesting how chill people were. Imagine walking into a bar on the "other" side of town...likely we would have not been welcome. I have to love the East side. It's nights like that when I am reminded by the special-ness of this place. And the special friends I have.
So, back to the story...so, I was asking all these questions...what does the hawk eat? Aaron tells me, sparrow-- caught by the other hawk he currently has. The one bird hunts for the other. So, then what happens when the hawk has to, you know...go #2? It actually is like a little squirt. The hawk lines up it's big feet at the edge of the nest and just aims out. In nature, it would land on the tree or the ground...not in the nest, since that would be gross. But at the Weary, there is only booth...no tree. So, at some point later in the night...me and my 4 glasses of Pinot Noir were having a great time...and the hawkling started to make motions at the edge of the nest. Since Aaron was sitting across the table, he motioned for me to grab the plastic glass. Without really thinking, I just grabbed the glass and held it in place and then "squirt!" I caught it, like I was a natural hawkling poop squirt catcher. All was good and we went on drinking, the hawk went on preening and napping, and pushing out feathers.
Aaron says she'll be flying in 2 weeks. That's how it goes I guess, all the babies have to leave the nest sometime. I was happy to spend some time with her, so curious with little nibbles and drinking water off my finger...big feet and little head, hawk-wardness disappearing by the minute. Soon she'll be a majestic bird of prey, and she'll have to fend for herself for a couple hours while we catch some food at the local hangout.
This weekend, I participated in my first Triathlon, along with 1,000 other people. It was in my little hometown of 2,000 people in Minnesota. We swam in the lake I grew up in. 
My friend Aaron stopped by the other day with this baby Cooper's Hawk in a box nest. He's a falconer and has decided to take it to the next level with a little chick. She is really quite sweet. I decided the bird was in her hawk-ward stage, with all her fluffly white adolescent feathers. Aaron said she's like a play-dough press, just pushing out feathers. She eats and grows, constantly. Everyday she changes colors, shedding her dandelion fluff and making real feathers for flying.
Friday I spent the day with my friend Jenifer at a festival in Prairie du Chien...the Rendezvous. It was a fantastic day. We swam in the Wisconin river, grilled, and went to this interesting festival modeled after the fur trading days. It was very authentic and there was some good shopping. I picked up a fabulous beaver skin and a red fox tail. The aligator heads were so tempting but Jenifer talked me out of it, I mean, where would I really wear it? You all know I'm just kidding. I got some nice earrings, a ceramic frog and a beaded medallion. I will definitely check this out next year. It's so refreshing to know that these ideas still exist. A world without plastic, where fur is hip, where people still work with their hands and cook with wood fires...the women wear little leather skirts, the men throw tomahawks at trees, wearing the same...
