where hawks dare

When I was deep in the construction trades, up early every morning either out on the job or out looking for work, many mornings I’d be escorted to the day by a covey of hawks who would circle my truck and then follow me along my back road and then peel off before the freeway and head back to the trees in the hills behind my house. One or more hawks would fly over my truck in ever increasing circles and I’d remark, we're going hunting together. I used to get so much satisfaction in those days imaging myself as a great hunter, and the hawks were my allies in this endeavor, the natural world and I uniting as one. I thought i'd be out in the field forever, reveling in the powerful feeling of using my body to bring into existence something that hadn’t been there before. Make no bones about it, construction is a hard and dangerous business, I have the scars to prove it, they run along my body like a map of my life out there. You work like a dog, you work fast and you work past the limits of whatever you think you’re capable of and that's when it's dangerous, and your working all the time, day in day out, month after month, year after year. You have a perpetual tan, your muscles get hard and your mind becomes clear and you’re in sync with the seasons, you feel the warmth of the coming spring and the cold bite of winter, but you get used to it, grow to love it, you’re in the natural environment, you’re where you belong. I truly felt I was part of that endless tide of lifes cycle . The hawks would confirm this for me. They would be waiting in the oak tree outside my house when i started up my truck in the morning, I would feel the nip of the early chill , my saws, hammers , level, and all my other tools, ranging from demolition to finish work, were placed in their proper positions, shined and oiled ready for the workday ahead. I had my hawk’s blessings. If I didn’t have work that day I would travel up and down the county line scouting out jobs, talking to store owners, realtors, random strangers, confident, and determined I would find some work before I would come home. The law of the hunt was this, never come home until you had something, no matter how long it took, how far you had to drive, you had to have a job to go to, whatever it took. I did this for years until it became so ingrained in me that there was never any doubt I would come home to my hawks with something. A man alone with his instincts, loving the mystery and romance of it all, ready to test myself against the day. These are the times that made me, when I would find myself part of the natural world, waiting for the adventures ahead. The hawks and I playing in the fields .jgk