take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...

Friday, July 14, 2006


Out of the corner of my eye, as I stood at the kitchen window, I sensed a movement. I'd assumed she was one of the regular visitors, but when I looked again, I realised I hadn't seen any like her before. I then remembered that our neighbours had mentioned seeing her around, her presence being somewhat out of the ordinary in our neighbourhood. She was known to have violent tendencies.

She was beautiful, elegant with piercing eyes. I knew there was something different about her. She stood for a while, alert, ensuring that she wasn't being watched. She was unaware of my presence - I stood stock still, eyes wide, trembling in my assurance that something was about to happen. I called Big, discreetly - he stood at my side, stunned into silence as the scene unfolded before our eyes. His arm crept slowly around me as we watched.

She turned around slowly and her gaze was drawn to her victim, who was unaware of her presence. She spent some time walking around, sizing up the victim. As I watched, holding my breath, she pounced. I could not see the scuffle which ensued, but I could hear it. Strangled noises, a struggle from the bushes she had chosen as the site of her attack. Big went upstairs to try and get a better view. We were witnesses, after all.

Suddenly, the victim appeared and escaped into the distance, seeming to be unscathed. The attacker too emerged, still unaware that she was being observed, but didn't give chase. The victim was smaller, more nimble, and had a head start. She acted all nonchalant and found a new vantage point from which to spot a new victim. Any would do. She was driven only by a crazed hunger. Her attacks were not personal, she was simply compelled to attack and took the opportunities when they arose.

A passer-by emerged on the scene, clad entirely in black with an imposing stature. Sensing that she was up to no good, he attempted to intimidate her by his presence. He moved towards her, eyeing her suspiciously. His plan worked - she disappeared out of view and all was calm once more. The regular visitors slowly returned from their hiding places.

But she would be back. This victim had got away, but she would find another. It was, after all, her raison d'ĂȘtre.

Such is the life of a sparrowhawk in an urban garden.

Oh, and I did manage to get a photo - though not a very good one...

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