A Morning of Magic: Coming to an Understanding

When the sun rises over the Anti-Cline it's rays hit the tamarisk by the river and within three minutes the lodge front porch. The songbirds and Tom know that's feeding time. Matters not the clock says, it's what the sun brings. Tom walks outside to put both critter and songbird feed out. No songbirds. Not unusual. There's a predator somewhere and everybody knows where except Tom. Tom scans the landscape. There is rustling in a few bushes to the right, to the left, even straight ahead. An occasional bird tweet. A flicker of movement. Towards the well house, nothing moves, nothing speaks, no sounds emerge. It's truly the dog not barking that tells Tom what he needs to know. As Tom approaches the well house he turns the camera on just in case. What happens next is unexplainable. Tom's mortal enemy for the last two months, the Sharp-shinned hawk, with a nervous mother circling overhead during the interaction, makes peace. The victim is a juvenile White-crowned sparrow, not a House finch.