Any reader that has halfway kept up with my blogs knows about my hawk. He has been around here for three years now, showing up just when I needed him.

The hawk is considered a messenger in Native American cultures. They can fly higher than any other bird except the eagle. Often when a hawk is being bothered by another bird, he will take to a high altitude rather than fight.

I saw my hawk last on Friday the 8th. He sat on the guardrail right next to the sidewalk my daughter and I take home from school. He sat so regal and turned to look at my daughter and me as we passed. I could have reached out and touched him. The fact that he remained on the guardrail as we passed was amazing. Yet, I knew he had done much the same before when visiting my yard. As daughter and I walked passed, he waited, watched, and then took to flight down the very full creek. We’ve had tons of rain. Daughter remarked how it looked like a scene from a movie. While watching his flight, I forgot I was in the middle of Friday afternoon traffic.

Yesterday while riding down the busy highway right next to my house, my niece spotted my hawk on the side of the road. He was dead. I’m not sure how this happened. Surely he misjudged the height of one of the big trucks or was so intent on catching his prey, he flew into the path of a car. Either way, he had been killed.

As silly as this will sound to many, I feel like I’ve lost a friend. He was such a beautiful bird, an oddity for my urban area. His very existence reminded me of how I longed to be in nature. A sighting of him always grounded me. I will miss him dearly. My walks will not be the same.