Through most of the summer I awakened early in the mornings to the ‘Screee . . . screee’ cries of the Swainson’s Hawks. In the late afternoons when I came home from work, the hawks were often soaring above the neighborhood or I saw them fly from tree to tree, often with some other badgering bird about them. Before evening, I again heard the hawks’ cries. The shoulder-hunching cry inevitably made me look up.
In the past two weeks, I have not heard or seen the hawks. I have no idea whether the neighborhood mates had a successful nest—I travelled enough during the summer to have missed early flights of any young hawks that the nest might have produced.
The Swainson’s Hawks have most likely departed on their annual migration. I hope they have good luck on their flight to Argentina.