Winged Messenger

It’s not uncommon to catch a glimpse of a soaring hawk or spot one perched high in a tree, but closer interactions with these beautiful creatures have been limited, for me, to wildlife habitats or special exhibits. 

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen a hawk up close in the wild, and each time has happened since late December. 

The hawk visits began the morning of December 30. My 91-year-old father had suffered a massive stroke the night before. He lingered in an unconscious state in the hospital. 

As I left the house, on my way to a 15-minute bedside visit (the short time span due to Covid restrictions), I heard my inner voice say, “When you go outside, you’ll see a sign.”

I’ve come to rely on this voice throughout my life, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. 

Many people look for a sign from a recently passed loved one, but my dad was still alive at this point. I was in “hope for a miracle” mode and investing my focus and energy on praying for a recovery, no matter how futile it must have seemed to medical professionals. 

When I opened the door, my eyes immediately locked with the gaze of a beautiful Cooper’s Hawk sitting on the neighbors’ swing set. I snapped some shots with my phone and then rushed to the hospital. 

The next morning, December 31, I was standing in my dad’s bedroom at his house when his nurse called to tell me he was still breathing. I pulled back the curtains to look outside. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A beautiful Cooper’s Hawk sat on the chain-link fence outside the window. It lingered there through my call. After saying goodbye, I was able to get some shots with my phone camera, but the window screen prevented a clear image. 

I have a sense within, that witnessing the hawk was by design —some divine intervention to note that there’s more than we can understand. Life continues beyond what we can see; beyond what we can confirm. 

I did some research on hawk symbolism and found that Egyptians believed at death a person’s soul would incarnate as a hawk. Other references pointed to hawks as messengers from heaven because of their ability to fly to lofty heights and be part of both worlds. 

At 2 a.m. on New Year’s Day, my dad left this mortal coil and my two adult children and I went about all the hard details: picking out a casket, preparing a small funeral with military burial, slogging through our grief and knowledge that he was gone. 

When the days slowed down a bit, the hawk returned. 

On the morning of January 11, I was back in my dad’s bedroom. I pulled back the curtains to check the weather and immediately gasped. 

Sitting in the exact same spot on the fence as it had been on December 31, a Cooper’s Hawk lowered its head as snow flurries danced around it. 

I tried to get a photo through the window, but again, the screen created distortion. 

I wanted a closer look. I went out the front door, crept slowly along the front of the house and gently turned the corner. 

The hawk was still there! 

I raised my phone and took a picture. I stepped forward. The bird eyed me cautiously. I snapped more photos and edged even closer. 

I couldn’t believe how close I was able to walk to this hawk without causing it to fly away. I believe the hawk’s calm presence symbolizes that my dad is still with me. 

A few weeks later, as my son and I completed errands around town, I gazed at the tree line hoping for another hawk encounter. I scanned the horizon looking for a circling bird. I became completely fixated on the idea of spotting a hawk.

When my son braked at a stop light, I looked ahead and burst into raucous laughter. The car in front had a personalized license tag: “H@WK.”