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The Squirrel & the Hawkby George ZidbeckI squire three acres in San Luis Obispo County. Husbanding the land also offers overseeing wildlife biodiversity. Sensual feasts abound. Although numerous birds and miscellaneous insects migrate seasonally, many creatures inhabit the local countryside throughout the year. One perennial species, the gray tree squirrel, constantly crisscrosses the acreage, accepting my rear deck as simply another branch to traverse from tree to tree. High strung, mischievously clever in their maneuverings, they offer delightful interludes. For example, one day while walking from home to garden site, a distance of one hundred yards, I casually took note of a gray squirrel foraging at the base of a large oak across my northwestern, barbed wired, fence line. Of no special significance for that moment, I resumed my trek to till the sod. However, I soon froze; my peripheral vision drew me to a Cooper's Hawk on a quick glide toward the subject squirrel. Initially, I felt certain the raptor had the edge -- his next meal certain. More so since the squirrel exhibited no alarm until suddenly rushing to the base of the large oak and leaping to the right of the trunk barely a half second before the hawk extended his talons. Unsuccessful in his effort, the bird flew dead ahead, gliding upwards to land on an extended oak branch forty yards distant. Once perched, he stared unflinchingly away from the attack zone. Surprisingly, the squirrel returned to his earlier foraging spot to sniff and scratch the ground. Having fixed my observation post, I remained frozen to await possible further developments. In about four minutes, the hawk resumed the attack, simply flapping skyward for altitude and then banking sharply to head back toward the squirrel no less indifferent than he had been earlier. Again, that arboreal rodent waited until the last second before reaching sanctuary on the trunk's left side. I could not track the hawk's flight. What now, I asked myself; wait, or what? I decided to wait, placing the garden chores on hold. Two minutes, nothing. Shortly thereafter, that errant squirrel remarkably returned to furrow the earth for buried acorns. My waiting bore fruit. Once more the hawk sped to his target. Only this time, I became more than an impartial observer. I felt I had entered the minds of both feathered and furred beasts. I thus sensed that the raptor had reasoned that any attempt to clasp the prey on the ground had not brought success; therefore, head for the trunk and cut the escape route. Further, the squirrel, having twice evaded capture, felt confident in reaching sanctuary yet again. My position did not provide telescopic triangulation, but Mr. Cooper's talons had to have scarred the backside of Mr. Gray. For upon reaching the trunk, that squirrel skedaddled upward to the first limb offering a route to another tree and thence to another. Within three seconds he disappeared. The hawk, knowing he had lost his final chance, continued on his flight path to scout a new hunting area. Another treasured moment within my squiredom!
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