Take a guess:
Since neither of us were looking out the window the evening it happened, we’re not certain, but we’re thinking that ghostly blob is “hawk face-plant.”
We heard it hit. It sounded like a muffler had dropped off someone’s truck and because of the time we had the contractor and the “Apple Dumpling Gang”working at our house for more than a year, our whole neighborhood is now familiar with that sound.
The other silhouette on the window is one of the batch of Audubon Society butterfly decals that we put on the window to keep birds from bashing into the glass. So much for that. One of the recommended decals is a silhouette of a hawk.
Oh, the irony.
When we redid our sunroom, we debated about the wisdom of adding the large bay window we have now because I worried about the birds hitting it.
The sobering statistics that somewhere between 100 million and 1 billion birds die from hitting windows each year weren’t lost on me.
I did some research. One study said that by tilting a window downward by 1/16 an inch, the reflection changes from a sky to a ground image, thus disorienting the birds enough to alter their path. I mentioned the plan to one of the workmen a couple of days before installation.
They were usually amenable to doing ‘most anything. After all, they good-naturedly replaced broken toilets at their favorite watering hole during bathroom fights just for the free beers. (In fact, two of our discarded toilets made an appearance there.) They were up for anything.
But I digress.
After mentioning the window tilt plan, I overheard them discussing the ridiculous idea of what “she” wanted. They obviously thought my idea was one for the birds. However, no one had the nerve to tell me “NO,” until I had seven guys standing in our den, sweating over the ton of triple pane glass they were holding by giant suction things to hoist into the window frame.
“I don’t reckon it would be prudent to tilt this thang down toward that CEment parking pad where your car is sitting,” the contractor drawled.
Maybe you could have stood firm, but seeing all these guys, all protruding neck veins and quivering muscles as they balanced the heavy glass in mid-air, I caved. And knew I’d been out-foxed.
We have witnessed only one fatal kamikaze flight in the ensuing years, but there have been some uncomfortable bumps.
The reason we think this window spot was a hawk (besides the fact that it’s a huge splat) is because when Dearly Beloved rushed outside to see what caused the noise, he saw the hawk sitting nearby on the fence.
I worried about the bird–whether it broke a wing or something– but triage would not have been…um… prudent.
We left for the beach the next day.
Yesterday I received an e-mail from our neighbor: