nighthawk shadows

Before dawn the gray white flash of the nighthawk shadows its way from fence to tree, scooping the last of the night moths up into its gaping mouth and slipping off into the dim morning to its nest, an earthy mud patch next to the fenceline, just out of the way of the tractor path. My morning routine has me outside in the adirondack chair, notebook open, coffee freshly brewed, as I take in the world as it slips from night sky darkness to the diffuse, pooled light of dawn. Birds have my attention, have always had my attention, ever since I was a small boy in Dublin, counting the house sparrows and magpies in the back garden of our suburban house. To catch a glimpse of a hawk, or an owl would have been enough to send me into orbit. Instead, my narrow gaze traveled between greedy seagulls and the rough-beaked crows pulling worms from my mother's flowerbeds. I often felt I was getting screwed because of our urban life, not really understanding how many more varied avians I could have seen had I had a pair of binoculars and a pocketful of patience. The fact of the matter is that I am now spoiled in terms of the birdlife of our little corner of the avocado ranch. Nuthatches, redtail hawks, great horned owls, California quail, various woodpecker types, and numerous hummingbird varieties, all within feet of the house at any given time. The nighthawk captures my imagination, with its mottled gray wing with flashes of white, like a fluttering x-ray image in flight, it has me holding my breath, waiting for it to reappear.