I walk out towards the end of our back yard past our small pond, which until the last hard freeze still was home to a few wild guppies. These are also known as mosquito fish, and they do a surprisingly good job of keeping the local mosquito population under control. During a hard freeze in December the surface froze and did not thaw for a number of days. The guppies can take some cold. They survived last winter, but this is not last winter. I could see the dead fish through the opaque ice cover. Maybe some are still hiding in the muck at the bottom.
I stand at the base of one of our dawn redwood trees, the branches now bare for winter. It is about the tallest tree on the property, with the possible exception of a magnolia out at the street. A nearby coast redwood may eventually overtake its cousin.
In the distance I am surprised to hear calls from a hawk for the first time since the removal of two trees from a neighboring yard. These had been nesting trees used by hawks ever since we have lived here. As tall as our trees are, they are not suited for the hawks to use for nesting. I had seen one briefly land in the lower branches of the dawn redwood, but only on rare occasions when hunting something in our yard.
Our neighbor told me that he removed the two trees because the owner of the house over his back fence had complained that one of them was dropping branches into their yard. That house is quite far from the fence. I have been back there recently looking for one of our cats. Their yard is completely overgrown and it is hard for me to think they would have noticed if a stray branch landed there from a tree located well into the next yard.
I hear the cry of a lone hawk again, and looking up towards the openness of the yard next door, I still expect to see those two trees. The sound of the hawk makes it harder for me to look. With the trees gone, it is so empty. I wonder if the hawk even recognizes the area or if it is as confused as I am.
It is probably easier for me. I can choose to not look, at least most of the time. It is harder for the hawk. He may not only be searching for his old nest tree, but he could also cry for his lost mate. He will not find her.
A few days after the tree removal, we found two separate hawk wings in the yard, evidence of an unknown trauma.
As I return to the house I hope he will find a new tree to use for nesting and will eventually find another mate. I wonder if the new nest tree would be near enough to us so we could still hear them calling in the distance as they hunt food for their young. Part of me hopes they choose a spot much further away from here.
It is no longer safe here if it ever was.
Memory is the Key 