Dogs instinctively like me. I cannot remember a time when there was no dog in my life. Cats are fine, but they cause me to sneeze after a while. Birds have never interested me. I only half listen when someone tells about their parakeet’s vocabulary. The only exception was Sam, the children’s half moon parrot. I was oblivious to wild birds until the day I saw the kite.
It was a misty, dreary afternoon the first time I saw the bird. My mood matched the weather. I had nurtured a small business for six years. Like many small businesses at that time, it was floundering as the economy took a downturn. Ken’s job had taken us 350 miles from the town and house that had been home for 18 years. The change had left me trying to see the sunny side but not finding it.
On that afternoon I was doing bookkeeping and lamenting my decision to phase out the business. I had made the decision to go back to teaching, but I was not enthusiastic about it.
I closed my ledger, took off my glasses, and looked out the window at the gloom. There was a vacant lot next to the yard. A cat was stalking something at the edge of tall grass next to woods on the other side of the lot. I watched the cat for a few minutes and idly looked up. On an overhead power line was a large bird with its head cocked watching the cat. I reached for my glasses to take a better look. This was no ordinary bird but a gorgeous white and black bird. I hurriedly searched for the binoculars hoping it wouldn’t fly away. I got the binoculars and went outside. By this time the mist had become a drizzle. I slowly, silently crept through the grass, stopping at intervals to focus the binoculars. For me, the non- bird watcher, this was unusual, actually comical. I was watching an exotic, majestic looking bird. The beak was large and hooked. The head was white with pronounced black circles around the eyes. The body was white with black on the wings. It alternately watched me and the cat and did not seem disturbed by my presence. I was mesmerized, half expecting it to dive for the cat. It finally spread regal wings and took flight. I watched until it disappeared into the overcast sky. The farm girl in me surmised it must be some kind of hawk.
As the summer days passed I began to watch a bird soar late in the afternoon. It would soar, hover and dive for prey. It was almost an everyday occurrence. One afternoon I saw it just over the treetops before it began to soar higher and higher. I realized that it was the bird I had seen on the power line. I began a ritual of watching it every afternoon.
I inquired among the neighbors and was told it was a black- shouldered kite. There was a pair and they nested in a large tree on the edge of a nearby canal. I continued to be fascinated as I watched it almost daily. Soon we moved, the school year began, and my bird watching ended.
Some time later a birder told me the bird was actually a white- tailed kite even although many of the locals referred to it as a black- shouldered kite.
As I write this, the Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival has ended for 2014. During our time in the valley, I went to several of their events and learned more about birds. I was especially fascinated by demonstrations by John Karger and his falcons. He is founder of Last Chance Forever Bird of Prey Conservatory in San Antonio. I also saw the green jays prevalent in some areas and enjoyed the wild parrots in our yard in La Feria.