Feathered Valkyries of the Forest There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein     Birds of prey often provide special animal watching moments. They are active predators that need to be constantly alert to take advantage of any situation if they are to catch enough food. They are regularly killed by people because all predators must be evil, right? Every peasant worth his shotgun knows that. The truth is that raptors are vitally important to every farmer for the many rodents they eat. Raptors rarely have an easy life, as they often barely catch enough to feed themselves and their families. It usually takes patience and a little luck to see them hunting, but that moment can be spectacular.   One of my favorite birds has become the Goshawk. They are big forest hawks designed to dodge and weave through dense coniferous trees in pursuit of birds and rodents. They are sharply marked with intricate penciled barring on chest, belly and legs. Slate gray above, banded tail, black cap, white eyebrow, ruby eyes. Perfection. I'd looked for these beauties for many years without success, but that all changed at a campground on the western edge of Yellowstone National Park.   After most of the other campers had left for the day, I slowly wandered around the deserted area. Watching a small perky Red Squirrel playing on a low lodgepole branch, I noticed two more emerging from a basketball sized nest of dense twigs about ten feet above the ground. All three were clearly youngsters exploring the big bright world around their home. Suddenly the lowest one ran frantically upwards, calling in panic as a huge shape plummeted in and landed on a branch. Stunned, I found myself looking into the incredible red eye of an adult Goshawk a mere four feet from my nose! I couldn't believe I was this close to someone so wild and beautiful and elusive.   That stern face measured me very intently, but I didn't twitch and the hawk chose to ignore me. Leaping to the branch vacated by the squirrel, it ascended after the youngsters, navigating and ducking through obstructions until it got within range of the nest. Then the main assault came. Feet first, the Goshawk lunged and buried its talons in the nest, bracing open wings against nearby branches. Everything came to a halt as the Goshawk froze in this rather awkward position.   Now a new player entered the drama as a loud scolding began in the adjacent tree. Descending slowly, alerted that something was very wrong, a nervous mother squirrel appeared. Crossing to her home tree, she crept upward in erratic jerks, scolding constantly, warily approaching the motionless Goshawk. This tiny mother, inches from a predator thirty times her size, refused to hide while danger threatened her babies. Instead she scolded from point-blank range as the hawk decided what to do next. It's easy to dismiss squirrels as dithering idiots but I saw a different facet of their personality here. I had no clue what would happen next as everything paused in anticipation before the final explosion.   For whatever reason, the Goshawk reached the breaking point and launched outward in a flurry of wings and legs. For a moment the bird fell, then stabilized and wheeled through the branches. Mother squirrel instantly dashed up the tree to better shelter. The frustrated Goshawk almost immediately vanished into the forest. It had failed to grab or flush a young squirrel on the first pounce and probably realized that hanging in an undignified position while being yelled at by an irate mother wasn't going to improve the chances. Mother squirrel slowly returned and began a detailed inspection of every branch the hawk had touched. She smelled each twig and needle and never stopped scolding for a moment. The babies never showed a whisker outside the nest and eventually the mother joined them. The incredible bravery of the tiny mother impressed me greatly, far beyond what I would have expected. This would not be the last time I would watch a mother Red Squirrel defend her babies from a big bird in Yellowstone, but that's another story....   Most amazing was that a Goshawk was willing to even approach so close to a human, let alone trying to hunt in front of my face. To see any animal so beautiful is one thing. When it's rare or hard to find, that's even better. But to watch one do something unusual and exciting is truly phenomenal. I went home marveling at the beauty of the hawk, the bravery of the squirrel, and the good fortune of the babies.   There are rarities you can seek for years but never track down. Others will eventually appear but only briefly or distantly-- memorable but not fully satisfying. Then come those moments when you're suddenly facing an animal so spectacular that instantly you know years of searching and waiting are at an end. Few experiences match this and it's hard to convey to those who have never felt it how great it can be. Too many people are afraid of nature, on edge every time they're out of sight of road or building. Yet these same people think nothing of living in the madhouses they call cities. They see even the most harmless animal and experience nervousness and fear rather than wonder and awe. There is so much splendor and beauty to be found in nature, and animals are creation's living, breathing heart. We must tear down the screens we place between ourselves and our wild neighbors. Instead of seeing nature as a picture postcard (two-dimensional and static, suitable for framing), we need to see it as a portal into the lives of living beings with value in and of themselves, irrespective of their use to us. They all have their own interests and personalities and perspectives of the world around them. That's why watching them live their own lives in their own homes is so exciting, as each may show you something special that you haven't seen before.   After my spectacular meeting with the Goshawk, I assumed it would be a long time before I saw another. It turned out to be shorter than I expected. During a trip to Alaska we spent several days around Fairbanks, following the advice of local bird watchers who recommended places Northern Hawk Owls might be seen. This was the bird I most hoped to see in Alaska, so I made a repeated effort to check every location, including a spot near the University of Alaska. The school keeps a caribou herd for who-knows-what awful purposes and the barn attracts many Rock Doves (the abundant pigeons of every major city). They perched thickly on shed roofs and a tall windmill tower, cooing and strutting as pigeons do everywhere. Dense coniferous forest came to the edge of the corral fence, forming a solid backdrop. Not much of anything going on when I arrived, and no sign of owls.   Suddenly, pigeons exploded in all directions as a dark streak shot from forest cover straight at the windmill. The attacking raptor juked and twisted like a guided missile after the panicked birds and almost instantly connected with one. They collided in mid- air with a blow that probably killed the pigeon instantly. As they swept over us, I could see the dove hanging limply from the hawk's talons. Also clearly visible was the black cap and delicate chest markings confirming this as another Goshawk. The successful hunter swung around to the forest from where it had emerged, pigeon in tow. Over the next few minutes surviving pigeons slowly returned, settling onto the windmill and roofs, trying to resume their normal life. This could be a regular feeding spot for the Goshawk where easy prey is always available next to thick cover. For the Rock Doves, it's tough to be low bird on the food chain, but they remain superabundant anyway. Besides, anything that helps the Goshawk population is fine by me.   In case you're wondering, I would indeed find the Northern Hawk Owl. For several days I checked everywhere without success. Leaving Fairbanks at the end of our stay, we drove by a swampy forest at the edge of town, and there on a telephone pole perched my quarry. Right by the road in plain sight, looking around alertly, acting as if they're easy to find. A fairly small owl that operates in daylight, they have a black-rimmed white face, dark and light barred underparts, white-spotted dark gray back and wings, with bright yellow eyes. This one was just gorgeous and not bothered by traffic or observation.   The owl soon attracted attention besides mine. A Bonaparte's Gull began dive-bombing the owl, screaming loudly with every close pass. I peered closely at the black-headed gull and believed I recognized it. Three days before, I had been hiking in this very area and had emerged from the stubby spruce forest to find a shallow pond, where it was immediately clear that my presence was not welcome. A screaming pair of gulls took turns diving at my head, hoping to drive me from their nesting area. This happens to me occasionally from various species and it's no big deal; it can even be fun to see how close they will dare. However, the first couple passes can be fairly disconcerting. These two harpies came within a couple of feet and one must have passed even closer as I felt my hair ruffled from behind. Eventually I retreated from the pond and that was good enough for them. They backed off and resumed normal gull business.   So now as I watched the hawk owl flinch, I could really sympathize and wondered if this was the same gull. The harassed owl soon flew away to a more peaceful spot, proving that both owls and people can only take so much. We followed and found it perched on another telephone pole, with a small rodent it had caught when I wasn't looking. Before starting breakfast, however, the owl leaned forward and coughed up an "owl pellet," the indigestible bones and fur from the last meal. All owls do this and occasionally I find a pellet under a roost, but catching them in the act is rare. With a final glance in my direction, this unique northern sprite sped into the woods to eat in private, while I sped from Fairbanks victorious.   Birds of prey can be some of the most exciting animals to watch if you're lucky and patient and willing to be bombed by gulls. Actually, you can probably skip that last bit and still do fine. But it is worth the effort to see raptors at the peak of their ability. There's nothing else quite like them. From the way they carry themselves and behave, you would think they know it, as well.