In front of the window, I suddenly hear the hawk cry. I lift my head and see him appear with a dove in his claws. A second later he lands on a pine branch next to the one in the nest. I observe that the female is standing in another one a little lower and she throws herself towards where her partner descended. They are semi-hidden in the tree. I can only see wing movements and the branches fluttering for a few minutes. At the same time, near the window appear two monarch butterflies that begin to circle around the false coffee tree that stands out on the dividing wall. Suddenly the hawk leaves with its prey between its legs to the neighboring pine. I see how he plucks it. He does it for a while. The feathers fall slowly, in contrast to the rapid movements of the bird's beak. The hawk moves to another branch with a part of the dove between its legs. Standing there, eat. Your head rises and falls with the rhythm that your food inspires. It changes places and transforms into wing and head movements that simultaneously shake the branch. Again it moves to another one higher and remains standing on the perch for a few moments, until something that should have been between its claws comes off towards the lower branch. He goes there and eats again. When I think he's finished, he goes to another branch where I can only perceive the movements of his tail. One of the orange butterflies is approaching the window. I perceive its flight as in slow motion. The turn he takes as he disappears behind the wall caresses my gaze.
The male hawk returns from the north and perches on a tall branch in the eastern pine area. Then it advances to another near the same height, the one that guards the nest. It is covered by the leaves and for a moment only the white tip of its tail is visible. Immediately he leaves the shelter and descends in a second to the middle part of the drunken pole. He remains there, camouflaged with the tree and facing the south wind: A pine branch concentrates almost all my questions these days.