Knocking at My Door

A factual account by Priscilla B Shuler

We had been feeding hawks for several winters when, late one October morning there came a scrambling knock at my front door.

Our home has an entrance foyer with the front door having side lights through which one can view the caller. On the wall opposite the front door is a large mirror which can give someone looking into the foyer the sensation that the world is just beyond our front door.

The den is just off the foyer to the right side. I was at home alone, reading, when I heard the first noise at the front door. It sounded as though a misguided bird had flown into the side light expecting to fly through. This has happened many times, but usually the unfortunate bird picks itself up and flys off in the direction from which it came. Consequently, I didn't think too much about the initial sound.
However, when the banging, scratching noise came again even louder, I figured this had to be someone who was unable to ring our door bell. My first thought was someone in a wheel chair, maybe, or worse yet, someone out and up to no good.

I tipped-toed over to the den-foyer door and leaned into the foyer far enough where I might spot the culprit and get back to the phone to call for help, if need be. To my shock and disbelief, there sitting on the black iron stair rail was an adult Red-shouldered hawk! She spied me spying her and she flew up over the house toward the back.

I was so thrilled and filled with joy at the intelligence displayed by my friend, I literally shouted with praise to God for such a gift as this. I ran to the freezer and pulled out a small package of chicken gizzards which I quickly broke apart and thawed in a pan of hot water.

As soon as the meat was pliable I took it out the back door to find her sitting on the dinette roof, from where she flew over my head to the oak just beyond the patio.
I placed the first piece of chicken onto the clothesline rail and she flew in and snatched it up and flew back to the oak. I placed the rest of the pieces up for her and before I could get turned around, her mate was sitting on the rail. By the time I was back in the kitchen, they both were there side by side eating their breakfast.
I suppose they had decided that their natural food supply had gone underground and it was time for us to begin their winter feeding, to which I happily complied.

In the next installment of my hawk stories... I'll let you in on a most amazing gift from my feathered friends.