Grace

After the bats, I watered the gardens. Out back, the martins watched as I watered. Careful watchful black shining eyes. They have little ones, or at least one, and I've noticed that every once in awhile as many as 15 show up and stage around the house--landing on top, flying around, generally making enough noise to get my attention inside. I'm thinking they come around everytime a baby hatches. These are congratulatory fly-bys. It's not often and has only happened now 4 times. I am not brave enough to disrupt the family to bring the poles down and take a look inside. They deserve their privacy. I have seen the parents bringing bugs in and leaving with fecal sacs though so something is indeed going on.
Watering the west side gardens, I notice something move on the outside of the fence and there is mama cottontail. She has moved just enough to catch my eye--when she sees that I see her, she sits watching me. Even when I move closer, she sits. I wonder of her message and try to quiet my head in order to hear. She is ever so still and even against the green grasses that tower over her, she blends. It never ceases to amaze me that brown animals can blend with green flora.
She is calming to me as I realize I am actually procrastinating packing and getting ready to leave. I water the beauty berry and walk away--she never moves and even the dogs that jump at me never see her.
Later on, out front, right before I leave, I show Forrest what plants need attention that day. We are bending over a fence looking at a lovely day lily when I hear martins coming from the west side of the house. Wondering what's being said, I look up in time to see them chasing the resident cooper's hawk right over head. He lower than the roof of the house but above our heads. I gasp. He looks like a winged ghost--his back and wings look grey--the color of weathered cypress. No wonder he can hunt through trees with little problem.
The martins escort him eastward and their cries fade.