Red-tailed and Swainson's

The garnered beauty of trust in the same pair of red tails over the last 9 years has been sedimentary in my understanding of the patterns these animals use to conduct their lives successfully. Each time I watch it exposes yet again how they are loyal to their routine perches along a couple of power poles adjacent to the gravel road and the alfalfa fields. They fly in the very same direction for cover, to land on top of the same juniper tree. On dry dusty days their tolerance of passerbys is lowered from the cloud generated by cars going any relative speed. But, too often, going slow enough to avoid dusting one of them means they glare their suspicious, piercing yellow eyes down as if to decide if there's a threat... no cognizant wonder or feelings about being friends, only the intense focus of what foe I may become.

Seeing the Swainson's move in early winter of 2008 meant that on one cloudy, rainy day there was a young, ragged edges for wings hawk sitting hunched on a juniper that none of the other raptors use. A small, very low status tree if I may jump to a NSDC (non-scientifically derived conclusion). The juniper is low and apart from the best hunting grounds, set right in the nook of the grave road meets pavement; neither peaceful nor fruitful. But, nonetheless, over the next few weeks I watched this hawk slowly move around to the different fishing spots, and I observed a few aerial chases but no real assaults. The winter was sparse but dependable for the Swainson's presence, I noticed that the aging red-tails were there less and less and often hunted a bit further downstream in the canyon. 

Late winter there were two soaring. On the greyest of days they could be seen at a couple hundred feet. But on clear days I could catch them sometimes climbing thermals and soon be a speck in the sky, just the two of them swimming around as little dots in the telephoto.