The hawks have arrived. We now have three families of the winged beasts living in the trees that tower over the neighborhood. The other feathered fowl are none to happy about it either. The blue jays are the most vocal, as usual. They swoop and screech and scream at the hawks. The hummingbirds just flitter about, flustered and gnat-like in their irritation to the hawks. The crows team up. They are the Oakland Raiders of the skies. One will swoop while the other circles. Then their friends join in and swoop from all sides, attacking, cawing, and making it virtually impossible for the hawk to do anything but sit and wait out the torture.
Yet - none of the birds dare get close to those treacherous claws or flesh-tearing beak of the hawk. They know that he will make them lunch for his little ones if he has to.
And the hawks continue to live in the magnificent trees. They are not deterred from their family life. They are those creatures no one wanted to move into the neighborhood, yet here they are. And the place is better for their residency.
And that got me to thinking. How many times have I been in a place where I was not welcome? Harassed by the "locals," how many times have I moved on, not wanting to make anyone angry or cause any trouble? How many times have I "tolerated" their screeching, their screaming in my ears, their incessant complaints about my very existence? Why do I do that and how do I stop?
I shall watch the hawk, well... like a hawk. His patience is evident in the fact that he does not eat his pestering neighbors. His demeanor is an exhibition of royal dignity. And he will not be moved. Yes, his feathers are ruffled every so often, but he sits there in quiet regality, owning his territory, bringing class to the neighborhood.
I shall be patient. I shall not be moved. I shall be dignified and carry myself with pride, knowing that I am here to stay.
I want to be like the hawk, too, and stay, ruffled maybe, but settled in nonetheless, in my space. I always think of running away, when times are hard and lonely, but I want roots and community. I don't want to be a lonely nomad.
ReplyDeleteI think also about the mouse. Everyone wants to kill and eat a mouse or just rid their habitation of the mouse. With that knowledge, or maybe the mouse does not know, which would be merciful, the mouse still exits it's hole to look for food. If a mouse was too timid in the face of all these foes out to destroy it, the poor mouse would die of starvation. I have respect for the mouse.
My favorite cartoon is of a huge hawk, bearing down upon a doomed tiny mouse. The humanized mouse has the middle finger of one hand extended upwards towards the hawk. The cartoon was entitled "The Last Great Act of Defiance".