This weekend, enjoying a brief reprieve from the heat, Nate and I sat on a bench near our house while Sophia soaked herself in left over rain puddles. One of my favorite things about our neighborhood (read apartment complex) besides being very green (as in grass and foliage-not environmentally) are the song birds. They are such a nice surprise in our big city move. The apartment complex maintains feeders and bird houses. Their delightful melodies are an unexpected touch.

Despite my fondness for the song birds, as Nate and I chatted I grew increasingly alarmed at how they were attacking a beautiful hawk perched on a post nearby. After thirty minutes I finally remarked to Nate. "I think that hawk is wounded? It hasn't flown away. Those birds are all over it. They actually are pecking at it and it hasn't moved." Seriously concerned for the hawks safety I began to wonder if I should call animal control? "Nate, I actually feel sorry for the hawk--do you think we should do something?" Immediately after the words came out of my mouth the hawk took a couple of hops bounding into the air and out of sight. Without any effort it swept right past us giving us a great look of the struggling baby bird in its talons.

We were silent for a moment without missing a beat Nate asked "Still feel sorry for the hawk?"