Hawks and Doves

The hawks hunt in pairs. One cruises the length of the field at shoulder height. The arrow metaphor is apt: It cuts through the air with incredibly fast, “straight as an arrow” flight. Its partner brings up the rear, flying a bit slower, on a parallel track but along the edge of the field.

When hawk one reaches dove point — a patch in the field, or the edge of the pond, anywhere some seed eaters may have congregated — the hawk flushes its prey. Hawk two, flying at a slight distance, is in a better position to chase and kill. It is estimated they miss 90 percent of the time.

The startled flocks take to the air; in the distance I see a spray of dots, sparrows scattering, doves flapping. Hawk two sails into the midst, cuts one from the group. And a high-speed chase lasts just seconds.

I hold my breath, cringe-watching for impact. Pity the dove — but you cannot deny the hawk its sustenance. This is Nature, relationships that predate and likely will post-date us.

The dove flies up, flicking left and right; it outmaneuvers and climbs more rapidly than the hawk can reverse. The ambush ends.

The hawks, closer together now, maybe critiquing each other’s performance, cruise above the phragmites. In unison, they make a broad U-turn and, buoyantly slow, they stray apart and head back toward the farmland.

The hawks defy their paltry success rate with time. They have all day to succeed, because they are undomesticated animals and food procurement is their primary occupation.

Later in the day, my friend and I sit at the edge of the Farmer’s Riviera. One seagull has caught a fish in the trough of the outgoing tide. He brings it onto the shore and is quickly mobbed by his peers. Then, we feel the shadow of a much larger bird above, and a bald eagle swoops down on them and snatches the fish.

The eagle can hunt, but because he is very large, he often steals. His success rate is closer to 90 percent. However, that bullying success is still predicated by the lesser predator’s statistic.

Massive bait balls can be seen from the beach. Terns bomb the surf; pods of dolphins go leaping past. Part of watching “nature” is pure enjoyment. From beautiful to bizarre, a live show can be as near as the closest tree trunk.

The contemplative part of watching nature is wondering: How do we fit? Why do we act the way we do?

Language lets us use metaphor and the relationships we observe in nature to describe our behavior, like the aforementioned Hawk and Dove. But we’re less likely to use nature’s proscribed outcomes to amend our behavior.