Tag Archives: Kestrel

Kestrel (Sparrow Hawk)


I got out early this a.m. to feed the bulls and change my irrigation water, bringing my camera along to take advantage of the early fall light. A few good photographs to draw upon this coming week for the blog. The Sparrow Hawks were busy this morning, but tricky photographing. Automatic focus is a must as I tried to capture this one in hover mode with my 400 mm lens. I couldn’t help but think of our constant commenter and falconer, Richard, as I was photographing, and include these enlarged (and slightly fuzzy) photos for him.


Weekly Photo Challenge (1): “Inspiration”





One hundred ten degrees,
a kestrel lights where water sprays
the onion bed and bathes—

then soon its mate,
or so it seems at a distance
in the fuzzy heat.

Now in the morning black
my desk lamp brings
gnats to the window glass,

and tree frogs on a slick,
perpendicular hunt, vying
for positioning, carefully

lifting one foot at a time.
I imagine now the herd
of tree frogs seeking cover

at the kestrels’ landing,
great hops into the thick
onion stems and berry vines

dripping with wonder:
new habits on a timer
every summer evening at six.




Nothing sudden, poor dry hills
like thin cows show too much bone,
I look away for a spot of green

in shadows of trees, on north slopes
to weigh our hopes: how many days    left
before it rains? Bankrupt with years

of debt, of dirt exposed, of dust released,
the old oaks have given-up to start over—
to become earth again, and we

make plans to brand another bunch
like Kestrels courting spring, falling
in a flutter before me yesterday:

fourth of February, seventy-seven degrees.
Nothing sudden, we plod against the obvious
knowing nothing stays the same.