The rounded leading edge of the sun sent
its first rays tentatively over the edge
of the horizon. It was then that the morning
dawned silently, still and cold in its sudden
wakefulness.
Within the shadowy stands of a mostly-aspen
grove of trees a hunter patiently waited.
This ultimate hunters' skills had been honed
through the rigors of a lifetime of hunger
and misfortune. She was born a natural hunter,
as it was her only means of feeding herself.
Every day was simply one day in a lifelong
struggle to survive.
Rain, heavy mist or extremely windy days
reduced the chances of finding prey and led
to many empty-bellied nights. This hunter
relied on no tricks or bait piles to lure
her prey in closer. Instead her only advantage
was her strong will to survive another day
and her unending dedication to the hunt.
She needed no implements to consume her meals,
the raw tools that nature had provided her
with were more than sufficient when she was
able to use them properly.
She wore no 'hunters orange' to alert others
to her presence, nor did she have any need
to mask her scent. Instead, her camouflage
was her natural coloration and her musky
scent was the scent of the woods itself,
the deep natural essence that is impossible
to bottle, but that is the smell that every
true hunter and prey knows instinctively.
As the slight sliver of an ever-fading moon
dipped slowly downwards, the hunter became
more and more alert. The woods and the nearby
grassy field were slowly coming alive. As
the first warm rays of the sun crept across
the land, very slight, almost imperceptible
movements were being noticed by a watchful
hunter high up in the tree branches.
A pair of blood-red eyes furtively darting
back and forth were the only noticeable movement
from an otherwise statue-like mottled brown
body. Those eyes quickly and efficiently
scanned the rustly, scratchy dried grasses
for unusual, lateral-type movements. The
snapping of a tiny twig or a sudden grass
movement in the still morning caused the
hunter to move her head around to face the
sound and/or movement. |
JUST BLENDIN' IN -- This early morning hunter
tried its best
to blend into the surrounding foliage - or
lack thereof.
Aroused from its nighttime slumber, the crisp,
clear day promised to deliver a fine time
for hunting.
Photo courtesy of Connie M. Thompson |
Twin plumes of steam drifted out almost unnoticed
from a slightly parted mouth as the hunter
increased her concentration. As soon as the
movement was detected, it had also disappeared
just as suddenly. Soon another - closer -
movement was seen. A very tiny movement was
occuring regularly, and a path was being
chosen deep within the dried grassy landscape.
The newly-laid trail was very closely watched
and noticed.
In the blink of an eye, the hunter launched
herself from the bowels of the tree without
touching a single branch or disturbing a
single frost-frozen dead leaf. In a split
second she was at the spot where the movement
had just occurred and she flung her body,
feet first, talons outstretched, into the
messy tangle of dead leaves.
Something small, squirmey and warm struggled
against the hunters sharp talons and she
quickly reached down and delivered the death
blow with her sharp bill.
A moment later the hunter was seen again
as she leaped skyward with her newly-found
prey dangling limply between her jaws. It
had been a successful hunt and the first
order of business for the day was breakfast
- raptor style.
All text copyright of Connie Thompson
November 2002
To report any bird sightings or anecdotes,
please call me evenings at 906-635-5336
or write to: 14488 S. Ridge Rd., Dafter,
MI 49724
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