Neighbors – Sometimes They Poop in Your Yard

You don’t often get to pick your neighbors, but almost 29 years ago, we did.  And, just to make things perfectly clear at the get-go, the above title does not refer to these dear friends.  In 1983 we were getting ready to put our house up for sale and so were our friends, the Joneses.  We decided it would be cool to live in the same neighborhood and that’s exactly how it is.  Cool.  We found adjoining lots and built our houses right next door to each other and we’re living happily ever after.  Our kids have grown up as friends and now our grandkids get to play together in the same backyards that their parents did.  Did I mention how cool this is?  It is way cool.

But sometimes neighbors can be noisy.  Sometimes you can’t keep them out of your yard and they even wake you up with their squawking.  Sometimes it feels like they are looking down on you.  Sometimes they are.  Sometimes they even poop on your head.  I’m not talking about the Joneses anymore.  I’m referring to the couple that recently moved in about 80 feet from us – or to be more exact 80 feet from the ground.

Let me back up a little.  Several weeks ago I accidentally stumbled upon this pair in a somewhat compromising position.  I was taking the garbage out and they were being indiscreet in the tree above the house next door.  Since they are red-shouldered hawks, I decided not to report them.  During the weeks that followed we watched as they built their nest in an oak tree high above our backyard and settled in.

Mama on her nest

I am a birder of sort, so I have been pretty excited about the anticipated arrival of the baby hawks – three or four can be expected.  Meanwhile, mama and I have taken to watching each other.  I use binoculars but she doesn’t have to – after all, she does have eyes like a hawk.

When I hear their kee-ah, kee-ah I like to check out what’s going on.  I guess to them I’m a nosey neighbor, but it’s more entertaining to me than most of the stuff on TV.  I watched my new friends sharing a meal.  He circled above the trees and she yelled at him while perched on a branch near their nest.  (This is not unlike my husband and me.  When he gets home from work he likes to sort through the mail in his office for a couple of minutes until I give a yell that dinner is ready.)  He (the hawk, not Bob) brought her a fish, which she ravenously tore apart and consumed.  She didn’t offer to share any with him, which proves that just like in the human world, you don’t mess with an expectant momma when it’s time to eat.

Mama Hawk tearing into a fish dinner

Meanwhile my human neighbors have gotten used to seeing me out in the yard with binoculars.  I assure them that nothing but bird watching is going on, but I smile at the memory of asking their then-teenaged son what the strange cut outs were that outlined his bedroom window.  They were cardboard cut outs of Lord of the Rings.  That was the last I ever noticed his bedroom curtains open.  I think I totally freaked him out.  Good times.