If you were hoping your true love would give you two turtle doves on the second day of Christmas, I may have some bad news.
This morning started out like most, with my alarm going off at a criminally early hour and me groggily stumbling out of bed, powering up the Today show, and pouring myself a bowl of cereal. I was two bites into the Raisin Bran when my morning ritual was rudely interrupted.
BAM!
The noise was sudden, loud, and startling. It sounded like someone had just thrown a fastball at the side of my house. This was rapidly followed by an assortment of bumps and knocks that were most definitely coming from my front porch.
There was only one assumption to be made: Someone was trying, not especially quietly, to break into my house. In a sad testament to our modern times (and perhaps the neighborhood I call home,) my first conscious response was NOT "oh no, how shocking, appalling, and unexpected. Surely this can't be happening!" Instead, my only response was, "at 7 a.m.? Seriously?"
Immediately, I ran -- okay, let's be realistic, I briskly stumbled -- to my phone and started to dial 911. Before I hit the call button, though, I decided to pull up my outdoor security camera feed to catch a glimpse of my would-be intruder. I'm glad I did. This would've been a weird one to explain to the cops.
The loud bang I heard was NOT a gunshot or someone throwing rocks at my house. It was, in fact, a turtle dove from somewhere high above, freefalling headfirst onto my front porch. The assorted bumps that followed were from the Cooper's Hawk that had chosen my porch for an impromptu breakfast murder. What in the serious Wild Kingdom was happening?
I grew up in the country. Urban living has its assorted ups and downs, but I always assumed one of the biggest perks would be NOT having to routinely witness nature's circle of life playing out on one's front porch. But this morning, it played out in hi-definition 3D technicolor before my very eyes. What happened next was the kind of stuff they don't even dwell on in nature documentaries. The kind of stuff they blur out on true crime shows.
I was hoping my new friend Harvey the Christmas Hawk would've at least had the decency to fly off somewhere private with his prey. Nope. Unfortunately, Harvey decided he was in the mood to dine-in instead of carry-out. I'd like to tell you I looked away, but I was transfixed. And it was REALLY unpleasant. Let's just say I now know why we deck our halls with boughs of holly instead of bloody entrails. It was markedly less than festive. It was NOT a beautiful sight. I was NOT happy tonight.
The only one even MORE transfixed than me by the unfolding real-time yuletide carnage was my cat. She, too, had heard the commotion and poked her head around the blinds to check out the scene. Her only comment was "k-k-k-k-k-k-k" in that weird creepy cat chatter they make when their instincts get the best of them. When I poked MY head around the blinds, I expected Harvey to fly off in a hurry. Instead, he stayed motionless, except his head spun around and gave me a look that CLEARLY said "you're next" before turning his attention back to the gruesome task at hand.
There was little I could do but gently put the blinds back in place and return to my own (considerably less visceral) breakfast while trying to ignore the fact that my security cameras were capturing a holiday snuff film mere feet away.
Surely this was a sign, no? Hawks don't just show up on porches without it being some kind of omen, right? What ominous portents could a morning raptor be bringing me? My divination skills are rusty at best. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say that either (a) a pox is now destined to befall my poor family, (b) next year's harvest will be bountiful, or (c) thou wilst be cursed to eat some seriously soggy Raisin Bran this morning.
I was curious, so I looked it up later that day (and definitely NOT while at work because that would be a horrible waste of company resources.) I found a website called Mindbodygreen.com and their interview with psychic and astrologer Stina Garbis. According to Garbis, the spiritual meaning of a hawk with its prey supposedly represents abundance and "successful attainment. It means you'll always be able to care for yourself and your family."
So thanks, Harvey. Maybe this Christmas WILL be holly and jolly after all, even if someone's true love will be shy one turtle dove come this second day of Christmas. I figure it's okay, though, because if you add up all the gifts from all Twelve Days of Christmas, they're still ending up with 183 birds in all, which seems less of a gift and more like a crime by that point. If your true love shows up at your door with 184 birds in tow, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY RUN -- otherwise on the 13th day of Christmas, your true love might also give to you a visit from the police, the ASPCA, ICE, and whatever unfortunate government agency is tasked with overseeing lords a-leaping.
Now if you'll excuse me, there's a murder scene on my porch that needs a holiday hosedown. Fa la la la la....
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