The cabin has been visited lately by a red-shouldered hawk. We saw him perched on the tin roof next door. He had dignity and a seriousness of purpose about him, unlike the noisy crow who sometimes struts about near the window looking for handouts. I had a good look at the hawk's russet underbelly when he took flight, first swooping low through the green bamboo then gaining altitude rapidly, riding the wind, until I lost him in the evening sun. Mr. Seals saw him a few days later, down the street, perched among the early spring leaves. The chickens had better watch their step.