Buteo — Jamaicensis

In the quiet of the evening, she looked out over her territory. To some, she was a sacred protector ; to others, a symbol of clear vision and strength. To her, she was simply the spirit of the wind, a living testament to the resilience and beauty of the wild.

She returned to her nest, a massive structure of sticks tucked high in the fork of a sturdy cottonwood tree. There, her white-downed young waited, their "klee-uk" cries echoing the rasping, iconic scream of their mother—the sound Hollywood uses to represent the voice of almost every eagle or hawk. buteo jamaicensis

As the sun began to dip, she spotted a movement near a utility pole. The hawk tucked her wings, transforming from a broad glider into a feathered bullet. She could reach speeds of up to 120 m.p.h. in a dive. With a silent, deadly grace, she struck. Her talons, her primary weapons, secured the meal. In the quiet of the evening, she looked