It's officially spring in Gainesville. We know because we hear the hawks calling to each other through the treetops. We see them sailing through the air as they hunt.
And when a familiar couple hooks up, as they do every year, we'll have an overflowing nest of puppy-hawks? ... uh ... hawklings? ... uh ... hawklets? high in the tree right across the road. It's so great to watch them grow from demanding, loud-mouthed fuzzballs into powerful, sleek aerialists.
But mating and establishing this year's hawk-families will come later.
For now, their job is to torment me. Every morning around 10, this magnificent beauty in the photos perches just outside my office window on the second floor, reminding me eye-to-eye that spending the day indoors is just plain nuts. There's a time for work and a time for letting yourself soar free. And while I almost NEVER get that right, the hawk knows what's best for us. (Except for the part about hunting rats; while I know rats probably are delicious, I'm leaving THAT to her.)
BTW, Phil Wharton kicked butt at River Run today in Jacksonville! Email ATTABOY here: http://www.whartonhealth.com/