Hawk-eyed
I was in the supermarket, one morning last week, gathering a mixed basket of everyday items, when I looked up and saw a man with a bird of prey on his shoulder.
In one hand, he had a basket, just like me. Milk, crackers, strawberries. And in the other, a thin rope, which was tied to a band on the bird’s leg.
He walked past me, with a little smile.
Naturally, I followed him.
After a few aisles of me trailing the man+hawk it became a little weird, especially as we had passed several other shoppers, none of whom had noticed anything amiss. Certainly, they hadn’t in any way spotted this beautiful, vital, browny-peachy coloured, slightly fuzzy predator with a significant tail feather, and the bells on his ankle.
I began to wonder if this was one of those extra-ordinary scenarios; beyond unusual. Was this bird only visible to me?
Perhaps it was, so I doubled back and hid by the spaghetti, wondering how to go about this, pretending to consider carbonara for supper, heart beating ever so slightly faster.
Suddenly, some children came along. Children are the original form of Twitter; if you want to know what’s going on, ask a kid.
A hawk! one of them said, as they quickened their pace down the aisle, A real hawk!
I came out of hiding, and politely joined their gang, at a respectful, safeguardingly compliant, adult distance. I know my place, and sadly, it’s with the grown ups.
Nevertheless, we, the curious, located the real-life hawk? in the supermarket, and our joy was complete. The man seemed delighted (I mean, you’re probably asking for it if you go around with a large bird on your shoulder), and crouched down to the floor so the kids could get a better look, at eye-level.
Its feathers were soft and peach-golden, flecked with brown; dense and many layered. Its eye was black, ringed with yellow, and intelligent and alert as the Summer days are long. It embodied tall grass and freedom in the tilt of its head, and yet seemed perfectly happy, tied to a rope in a supermarket, along for the ride.
It’s wild, the man said. It’s a kestrel, not a hawk. It’s young. Sometimes they need humans to rear them, and soon I will release it, though I expect it will live close by my garden, and come to visit.
What does it eat? said one of the children. Mice, said the man, it breaks their backbone with its beak. That’s why I can carry it on my shoulder, its claws are not so strong yet. One day, they will be sharper, and it will use them to hunt prey.
We breathed it in as it ruffled its feathers and adjusted position. Then the man picked up his basket and got on with his shopping. We said thank you, and wistfully dispersed. I wondered if he was buying supper for the kestrel, but I don’t think so, because he didn’t go down the organic aisle.
At the checkout, I saw them again. The security guard held the kestrel and took selfies, while the man beeped his shopping through the self-serve till. I have no clue if any of this was a good idea, I don’t know much about birds.
But I do know one thing.
Look up.
I’ve drawn me + bird in 1910 costume, because why not, and also because I’m re-reading Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks, and oh, the clothes.
In other news, sometimes you should look down. This is hot-summer-ice-cream-paint on the ground in Bristol.
And don’t forget to look across, as my life drawing tutor used to say. Look up, look down, look across. This is hot-summer-in-my-workroom.
Sorry for the long delay in newslettering. I’ve been helping to run a Welcome Hub for Ukrainian refugees. It’s a joint venture between our city council and my church. We are one of several hubs across the city. It has been a joy and a delight, to fight injustice through the medium of coffee, cake, a hot meal and an open door twice a week. It’s a sadness too; these are strange and confronting times. But I am enjoying using my creative skills to minister to the children, and of course, you don’t need language to play and make art. I’ve enjoyed watching humans build a community in front of my very eyes, day by day. I’ve loved seeing them helping each other and tackling their new collective life with aplomb, hard work, courage and open hearts. It has been a huge honour so far. Certainly one I will never forget. (I’m talking like it’s over! It has just begun.)
My work, however, has temporarily taken a back seat. I have been drawing a lot though, and pondering my next moves. Here’s a big pencil drawing I did, of me and all my things. Still exploring the self, portrait, and who is in charge of who, where images are concerned.
And a corner of a big pencil-drawing poem illustrated in stamps. These are the most favourite things I’ve ever made.
Hope all is well. I’d usually say here, sign up your friends, but your friends may well be disappointed by this newsletter that arrives but rarely, who knows.
Love, Trudi
x
PS: Are these bird facts correct? They’re just what the man said. I haven’t checked, because it’s possible it never happened.
PPS: But it did!