Creative Bent: A Tale of a Peregrine Falcon
As you probably know by now, I live on the true edge - a large rock that sits on the ocean with Laguna Beach stretches of sand to either side. I was just telling someone yesterday morning that I'm completely absorbed in living here as my view changes here on the edge about every 3 minutes. And you wouldn't BELIEVE what I saw yesterday afternoon.
I have phenomenal thermals here on this rock, and I live in the penthouse, which actually sits above the rest of the complex. So the edge of my living room and side deck is right in the lift-off and flight pattern for every wheeling and diving bird you can imagine. As I was working away at my desk yesterday, a unique bird caught my eye. He was perched on the only jutting edge of the roof about 10 yards from me, just studying the lay of the ocean below him.
At first I thought he was a kestrel, a member of the falcon family (kissing cousins to the hawks), which I'll see now and then amidst my more common feathered visitors. He had the gray and black body markings, but was styling black sideburns and a black cap on his white head, which I'd not noticed in kestrels before. But when he suddenly took off and plunged toward the ocean, I knew we had a different bird of a very different nature. From tip to tip, his wing span was well over 40 inches and his belly had all the gray and white strappings of a Peregrine Falcon.
For about half an hour, he was his own hang glider in a small thermal that swept him toward the ocean, over the unsuspecting heads of the tourists on the sand to my right, and then up, up, up to swoop effortlessly toward me as I stood there on my deck, giggling at his approach. For a few seconds, he and I would be square on, looking each other in the eye, then within about five feet of my head, he'd tweak one of those enormous wings and swoop out toward the ocean, a rustle of feathers and push of sweet breeze as he meandered by. After his fourth repeat – swoop toward the ocean, beeline toward Diane's head – it occurred to me that a camera might come in handy, but he was moving as such velocity and speed that I was only able to pull off one embarrassingly blurry shot. I gave up the endeavor in favor of standing there, mesmerized and grinning.
With one final beat, he circled above my own roofline and headed south across the ocean. I spent the next half hour studying bird sites and jumping at every incoming bird shadow with happy expectation. He wasn't to appear again. But his lesson stuck with me.
The Native American Indians believe that when certain animals or birds appear in your life, they're coming with a lesson or reminder. When a falcon makes his guest appearance, he's reminding you that you have the ability to fly much faster and more powerfully than you already are. At the same time, the falcon is one of nature's rare birds that can be going Mach 10 one moment, then stop dead still and hover effortlessly the next before plunging into action with new direction and purpose.
In other words, the falcon is teaching us (me and, by extension, also you, because he knew I'd be writing about him) that it's not just about speed – it's about flying with intention, recognizing opportunties and acting on those opportunities at only the correct moment. It's not just about speed … it's about the accuracy of your action.
What an interesting week we have ahead of us …
I have phenomenal thermals here on this rock, and I live in the penthouse, which actually sits above the rest of the complex. So the edge of my living room and side deck is right in the lift-off and flight pattern for every wheeling and diving bird you can imagine. As I was working away at my desk yesterday, a unique bird caught my eye. He was perched on the only jutting edge of the roof about 10 yards from me, just studying the lay of the ocean below him.
At first I thought he was a kestrel, a member of the falcon family (kissing cousins to the hawks), which I'll see now and then amidst my more common feathered visitors. He had the gray and black body markings, but was styling black sideburns and a black cap on his white head, which I'd not noticed in kestrels before. But when he suddenly took off and plunged toward the ocean, I knew we had a different bird of a very different nature. From tip to tip, his wing span was well over 40 inches and his belly had all the gray and white strappings of a Peregrine Falcon.
For about half an hour, he was his own hang glider in a small thermal that swept him toward the ocean, over the unsuspecting heads of the tourists on the sand to my right, and then up, up, up to swoop effortlessly toward me as I stood there on my deck, giggling at his approach. For a few seconds, he and I would be square on, looking each other in the eye, then within about five feet of my head, he'd tweak one of those enormous wings and swoop out toward the ocean, a rustle of feathers and push of sweet breeze as he meandered by. After his fourth repeat – swoop toward the ocean, beeline toward Diane's head – it occurred to me that a camera might come in handy, but he was moving as such velocity and speed that I was only able to pull off one embarrassingly blurry shot. I gave up the endeavor in favor of standing there, mesmerized and grinning.
With one final beat, he circled above my own roofline and headed south across the ocean. I spent the next half hour studying bird sites and jumping at every incoming bird shadow with happy expectation. He wasn't to appear again. But his lesson stuck with me.
The Native American Indians believe that when certain animals or birds appear in your life, they're coming with a lesson or reminder. When a falcon makes his guest appearance, he's reminding you that you have the ability to fly much faster and more powerfully than you already are. At the same time, the falcon is one of nature's rare birds that can be going Mach 10 one moment, then stop dead still and hover effortlessly the next before plunging into action with new direction and purpose.
In other words, the falcon is teaching us (me and, by extension, also you, because he knew I'd be writing about him) that it's not just about speed – it's about flying with intention, recognizing opportunties and acting on those opportunities at only the correct moment. It's not just about speed … it's about the accuracy of your action.
What an interesting week we have ahead of us …
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