I cast a concerned eye at the juvenile Cooper’s Hawk, assessing his intentions toward our shared focus, my favorites: chickadees, black, white, light Purbeck-marble tan.
“Don’t you dare,” I say.
He doesn’t honor my plea.
Ashamed of my fascination, I let my camera capture him as he swoops to kill.
D.J.H. Woodward has played with words since she was a child, her first work being a collection of poetry and drawings for her maternal grandmother. Now an administrative maven who enjoys life most when her non-work hours are spent in learning and creativity, D.J. especially enjoys pursuits that are the opposite of what she gets paid to do.