Let Me Tell You About Goshawks

Murder and mayhem in the middle of the day.

I was doing some gardening in my kitchen box when this very loud caterwauling echoed from the woods across the pond. It was as earsplitting as a peacock but I knew that was not possible. My mind thought large raptor and I ticked them off in my head before I finally I said “oh, Goshawk chicks begging for food.” Yes, that was it!

Then an adult Raven entered the fray and began its distressed croaking. I ran down to the beach to the far end where the woods met the sand. I couldn’t see into the dense woods very far but I knew that the screaming Raven chicks must be in their nest and fearful. Goshawks are terrifying predators, swooping down in forest cover and grasping chicks with razor sharp talons in an instant. I stood on the beach looking in, seeing nothing when suddenly a large hawk flew stealthily toward the cacophony just thirty feet away. I could just glimpse its pale belly. It negotiated the trees flawlessly—yes, an adult Goshawk. A quick dive onto the nest and the Raven chicks were offered to his own hungry fledglings. Abruptly there was silence. Nothing but silence. The Raven did not win, its chicks were dead, and the Goshawk chicks were tearing them to pieces. The killer glided back through the forest the way he had come passing me thirty feet and a lifetime of experience away.