I adore hawks.

I admit, I never really paid much attention to them until I happened upon the Vermont Raptor Center, part of the Vermont Institute of Natural Science. They were looking for volunteers. I thought, why not? It might be fun.

I can still recall when they brought the birds in for the first time. They had a number of them, but one of them just caught my imagination. He was a fine redtailed hawk who had been given the appropriate if not imaginative name of "Red." A stately bird he was. I asked if I might be allowed to work with him. The director was a little hesitant, saying that he could be difficult, but I suppose I pleaded a while and she finally gave in. She plopped Red on my glove and left us in a corner to get to know each other.

Words at this point cannot really express what it was like. Terrifying and exhilerating are close, though. The beast on my arm was a wild animal, yet we had an uneasy truce. Once I looked into his eyes I caught a glimpse of a world that my kind left behind eons ago and which we can never be a part of again. No doubt about it; I was hooked.

That was more than a decade ago, and each time I hold a bird I can still feel a bit of that same thrill I felt the first time. I serve now on the board of directors of the Great Valley Nature Center in Charlestown (Chester County), PA. They have a small collection of resident birds, all disabled in some fashion that prevents them from being released to the wild. If you happen to be in the area, feel free to stop by. I'd be happy to introduce you to some of them.

I still prefer redtails above all the others, but I've not met one yet who really had the same personality as old Red. He's gone now, sadly. Time caught up with him a few years ago and the folks in Vermont had no choice but to ease him along. I wish I could have been there to say goodbye. He lives on in the stories I tell, and in the first story that I had published.