Javelin Missile

Javelin Missile: The One in My Back Yard

Hikers will love this tale. Often when looking up, you will see these magnificent birds of prey. Occasionally, you will see a hawk flying among the trees. That's often a goshawk, a large hawk which is highly adept at maneuvering and hunting in tight places. Red-tailed hawks usually hunt in more open spaces.

I've been mostly confined by back surgery to watching wildlife out of my sunroom windows. Our squirrel proof bird feeder at the edge of the woods is busy with small birds and woodpeckers. At the base of the feeder, squirrels reap the rewards of the messy birds which drop half of the sunflower seeds. There is an occasional chipmunk, but they are very careful and limit their exposure out in the open. They usually venture no further than the edge of the woods. Then we have foxes, which grab a squirrel that lets down its guard and forgets there are foxes. I call it Dick's squirrel farm. Once in a while, a small hawk will take a songbird. "Bad hawk," says my wife. This week, I witnessed something far different.

It's impressive how the advanced Javelin antitank missile locks onto and proceeds to its target. All pertinent information is stored in the missile's memory with no further guidance or instructions from the launcher. I think of the term, autonomous, able to think for itself, at least programmed to complete its lethal mission from launch to kill, adapting to changes in wind speed and motion of the target. The unusual thing about its flight path is, it swoops up and then dives down on the target, hitting it in its most vulnerable area, the top, not the highly protected sides of the tank.

We have a javelin missile at our house, it's a red-tailed hawk, programmed to hit its target. During its whole flight plan, it has its prey in its deadly sight. Its flight path is somewhat different than the javelin missile, but the result, the kill, is the same. From a great distance and height where it first sees its prey, it gathers speed like a German Stuka Dive Bomber, with its wings tucked in a plunge from high altitude to just above ground level. Now with open wings, it silently rockets parallel to the ground towards its unsuspecting prey. Then "Whack" the kill. This happened (I suspect the same hawk) twice in my back yard at the edge of the woods in the last two days. The prey each time was a chipmunk, oblivious to its impending doom. The moment of impact, the hawk's wings flared open to break its speed, its talons opened to clutch the chipmunk. I would have loved to catch the action on video. It happened so fast and so unexpectedly. I've seen similar scenes countless times with eagles and hawks on Public TV Nature programs.

Before I retired 25 years ago, my good friend at work, Bud, trained birds of prey including falcons and hawks in his youth. Bud was adept at looking up into the sky and spotting his feathered friends. On our noontime walks, he told me stories about his adventures. I too, habitually, during my walks and hikes find myself looking up and finding hawks circling above. Nine time out of ten in Connecticut, it turns out to be a turkey vulture. You can identify them by their size, black color, and shaky tippy-tippy wing to wing unstable flight pattern. Sometimes, it's a majestic red tail hawk. It's a treat to see them up close. As a hiker, I've seen evidence of a hawk's avian kill, a bunch of feathers and remains on the trail. Twice this week, I was rewarded to see them in action, unfortunately for our resident chipmunk population.

The accompanying image, my artistic rendition (I sketched this based on an image I saw on my computer) of a hawk on the attack, gives you an idea of what I saw as it opened its talons just prior to impact. All this reminds me of the flying dreams I had in my youth. I could skim just above the ground, maneuvering around any obstructions in my path. Later as a hiker with poles (I call myself the four-legged hiker), I had dreams of propelling myself in a prone position with my legs and arms, floating just above the ground. How may hikers out there watch for hawks, or had dreams of flying like one?

I understand that nature is cruel. There are no medications and hospitals. As humans, through our social connections and modern medical care, we can find comfort, solace, and peace in our pain and at the end of our lives. I've heard that animals experience a surge in adrenalin which renders them numb, unable to suffer, or they go into shock when faced with and experiencing a sudden attack and death, that the pain is blocked from their brains, that there is a natural anesthesia. I would l like to think that.