I cross the overpass that spans the canyon:
a narrow V carved once by a stream, now
the foul current of Interstate 15.
The steep walls are green with buckwheat,
scrub oak, manzanita, the inexorable natives of this region.
At eye level, above the opposing guard rail,
the wide white wingspan of another world circles—
suspended on an undetectable thermal—out over the canyon
and back again. A second follows close behind. Their faces
heart-shaped and sharp-angled. Their backs and wing-tops,
copper-banded and brindled. Consumed by prey
they are heedless of passing cars and miss, by inches,
several glinting windshields. Stranger
than this consolidation of earth and sky is the sun
hanging in the center of the day
flood-lighting the “strictly nocturnal” hunt. What a confoundment
of the local ground squirrel population! What a wonder
to walk casually by.
Causes Carrie Moniz Supports
individuals, species, ecosystems