Encounter With a Hawk

Messages from spirit

I had an encounter with a hawk yesterday — although I am not sure it was so much an encounter as just a mere sighting. I was sitting at my desk in my office writing when I looked out the window in front of my desk and I saw a big bird sitting on the power line across the street.

‘Big’ is a relative term, of course. The bird was not very big for a hawk — although there are ‘small’ hawks such as goshawks and kites. But compared to the doves and sparrows and other common birds sitting on the power lines (but not too close to the big bird) this bird was about three times bigger. The big bird was sitting on the line facing towards me and it was in the shadow of a very large tree so I could not make out exactly what it was.

My eyes stayed focused on the bird waiting for it to take off in flight. Then I would be better able to identify it. Of course identifying birds is not that important to me. I’m not an ornithologist. I’m just an avid bird lover, a bird freak. But I definitely wanted to know if it was some kind of hawk.

Hawks are one of my ‘special animal friends.’ Doesn’t ‘special animal friend’ sound better and more acceptable than, ‘spirit totem animals?’

Anyway, my special animal friends include hawks, mountain lions, wolves, and whooping cranes (among others). Any encounter or sighting of these animals touches me in a very profound spiritual way.

Hawks exist all across the plains and mountains of Western America which happens to be where I’ve spent the greater portion of my life. They have been following me around for most of my life. (Or was I following them around?)

Of the numerous kinds of hawks the one I have the strongest spiritual affinity for is the red-tailed hawk (pictured above). I once went on a spiritual vision quest out in the middle of the desert all alone and a red-tailed hawk followed me the entire way. And it followed me all the way back to camp. And then that night it appeared again to me in the sweat-lodge. It showed me something that forever changed my life.

But I digress… I knew for certain that the bird I was peering at on the power lines was definitely not a red-tailed hawk. For one thing, it just wasn’t big enough. It had to be one of the ‘lesser’ hawks. (And its tail was not red.)

Abruptly, the bird took flight and my suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed a hawk. It took off in a direction away from what I could see from my office window but I could identify enough characteristics of a flying hawk to know for certain that it was a member of the hawk family. It was too light to be a kite but it matched perfectly the characteristics of a goshawk. I’ve seen plenty of them here where I live.

I was reminded of an encounter with a goshawk I had a couple of winters ago. I was walking down a street ‘downtown.’ (What passes for ‘downtown’ in a little town of 7,000 people.) It was very cold and the streets and sidewalks were covered with patches of ice.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I suddenly saw a goshawk on the street. It was just about 5 or 6 feet outside the path of traffic and about 5 or 6 feet away from the curb and sidewalk. The smaller, lesser hawk was furiously tugging at some roadkill that was frozen to the street. I wasn’t exactly sure but I think it was a dead squirrel that was frozen stuck to the asphalt.

The goshawk was furiously trying to pull the roadkill from the icy street. It remained utterly oblivious to the cars and trucks passing by it just a few feet away and it was utterly oblivious to the humans passing on the sidewalk and to me standing there watching its heroic endeavor to have some lunch.

The bird was incredibly tenacious in its attempt to pull the roadkill from the frozen street. I was amazed. It looked so very ferocious.

After about five minutes of staring at this savage winged animal it finally managed to pull the roadkill free of its icy moorings. It grabbed the frozen animal in its talons and took flight. Wow, I had never worked that hard for lunch before.

Anyway, after seeing the goshawk fly off from the power lines outside my office window and then remembering the goshawk incident from a couple of winters ago I suddenly realized that all my ‘special animal friends’ are all carnivores!

Maybe that is appropriate since I am a carnivore, too. Being a human carnivore of my age with everything that I’ve learned and come to understand I am not exactly comfortable admitting that I am a carnivore. There is a smidgen of guilt that rises to the surface. Plus I proclaim to be a pacifist. Yet I eat meat. Sadly, I am a hypocrite.

For some years now I have been assuaging my guilt by going one meatless day a week. I’m not a vegetarian but by being one for one day a week somehow makes my carnivore nature slightly less brutal. Am I an idiot, or what?

Given my love of organic, grass-fed bison meat, I just don’t think I could ever be a bona fide vegetarian. Given that one of my favorite foods in the entire world is organic, cage-free, hormone-free, grass-fed chicken egg yolks, I know that I could never be a true vegan. (As everyone knows, 97.684% of all the nutrition found in a chicken egg is found in the yolk. The egg white is almost totally devoid of nutrition and I throw that out and eat only the yolks.)

That goshawk somehow reminded me that I have been venturing further away from vegetarianism lately. Last week I totally skipped my one meat-free day. I’m starting to think that eating animal products is not as important as how natural those animal products are. It is not the eating of animals that is as bad as the disgusting, unnatural way the agricultural industry raises and fills with poisons those animals.

It was quite some time ago that I stopped buying ‘regular’ ground beef at the grocery store. Now, at almost twice the price, I only eat certified organic grass-fed beef. Living in poverty, I consequently eat less ground beef but I feel a lot better and am a lot healthier because of my choices.

And instead of buying the cheap eggs I buy the certified organic, grass-fed, cage-free, hormone-free eggs. They are way more expensive but I happily go without Netflix so that the eggs yolks I consume are healthy and natural. (And for at least 28 days each month I eat three egg yolks a day.)

That goshawk reminded me that I’m a carnivore but it also reminded me that I have become a much more consciously aware carnivore. That goshawk from a couple of winters ago reminded me that I prefer not to eat roadkill, which is what so much of the meat at grocery stores amount to. Before humans came along hawks did not eat roadkill.

According to many Native American tribes hawks are considered messenger birds. They are portals through which messages from the spirit realms are delivered to the physical realms.

Until I saw that goshawk yesterday I had not seen a hawk since way back in June. I rarely go that long. It was not just a mere hawk sighting. No hawk sighting ever is.

The tenaciousness and laser-vision of hawks are always a message and reminder to their human friends that we must maintain a clear vision of where we are going and a connection to what we came from. The shrill call of a hawk flying overhead is the clarion call of the breaching of the veils separating the physical and non-physical worlds. For me personally it is a reminder of my connection to both worlds. And it is a message to reaffirm that connection and make changes that align with that connection.

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