You can tell I’m not spending much time working in the yard these days (or even being in the yard), because the red-shouldered hawk that lives at the top of the eucalyptus at the end of the drive has been making itself quite at home. It’s still skittish, because it flies away at lightning speed every time I open the door (hence, no pictures).

But it’s common for me to look out my window and see it swooping over the back yard, or perched in the walnut tree. I’ve also seen it resting on a fence post, surveying the scene. And I’m pretty sure it spends time on the peak of my roof, although all I have is the sound of mighty talons scratching around overhead. It’s not eyewitness evidence, but I think a case can be made.

I love watching these birds carving circles out of the sky or flapping madly to catch the current. But they’re also very striking at rest, with their keen eyes missing nothing and their tail wings twitching nervously back and forth. I’ve even grown used to the screech of their call, although it’s sort of at odds with their majestic bearing.

I have more direct evidence of the woodpecker that has been attacking the house beneath the dormer window. That’s because whenever I hear it rat-a-tatting up there, I can see it fly off as soon as it knows I’m watching. It’s a Northern flicker, the only real woodpecker I’ve ever seen around here, and I know its markings well enough to identify it. Now if I can only figure out how to discourage it permanently.