“Turn around slowly,” I whisper to Juana. “There is a hawk under the swing set.” Sitting in the grass between the swing and a nearby bench is a magnificent red-shouldered hawk (we think). It sits quietly unmoving though it has its eye on me as I try to move closer to get a better shot. It seems to have something in its talons, but it is too hard to see. Moving closer it flies away and its prey is in clear view: A tiny rabbit.
Hungry bird
