My first close encounter with a hawk took place over 30 years ago. I was walking on the small hill next to the university where I was a grad student, looking at birds. After spotting several small birds, I turned my head and a chill ran down my spine—on a branch 5 meters away sat a hawk looking straight at me. The bird was not large, but its intense stare cast a spell, and I froze.
A scene from The Jungle Book immediately came alive in my mind. I felt like one of the monkeys who were mesmerized and helpless as soon as their eyes met those of a hundred-year-old python. I did not step involuntarily toward the hawk, as the monkeys in the story were drawn toward the python, but the hawk’s large yellow iris, evoking fear and wonder at the same time, was burned into my memory.
I was so engrossed by the experience that I don’t think I attempted to identify the hawk at all at the time. Looking back, it was likely an Accipiter virgatus fuscipectus, the endemic subspecies of Bersa in Taiwan. A more common accipiter would be Crested Goshawk (Accipiter trivirgatus formosae), also an endemic subspecies, but larger in size (length 40-48 cm), comparable to Cooper’s Hawk. Bersa is similar in length (25-36 cm) to Sharp-shinned Hawk.
Having the mixed feelings of awe and alarm when a hawk and a person meet eye to eye is no doubt not rare. An instinctive fear of a predator seeps into an admiration for a magnificent being. The result is a confused yet stimulating sensation that makes one reflect on one’s place in nature, in evolution, and perhaps in the endeavor to live peacefully with other creatures on earth.
It was such a delight when I heard on the radio a physicist and writer, Allan Lightman, talking about his experience of eye contact with ospreys. He was in Maine in August, and two young ospreys hatched that summer took flight for the first time, heading straight for him as he stood on the deck of his house.
“My first instinct was to run back into the house, but something made me stand there. And when the birds got within about 20 feet of my face, for a half second they made eye contact with me. It was the most profound communication with a nonhuman that I have ever had. I was shaking and I was in tears. In that half second, they said that we are brothers on this land, we should share this land together. We’ve been watching you all summer, you’ve been watching us, and we are all part of nature.”
Recognizing the similar strand of thought going through his mind when he had his raptor gaze gave me a quiet thrill. Then I came across a passage written by my favorite Taiwanese novelist Wu Ming-Yi. He describes a young boy’s reaction to the overpowering stare of a hawk in a story published in 2019. “In the dim light its head turned, aiming its round black beak and huge irises at me. Forcefully, it looked me straight into the depth of my eyes...I put up with the excitement stimulated by my fear, trembling slightly.” (My translation.)「在微光中牠轉過頭，以圓滑的黑喙與巨大的瞳孔對準了我，強而有力的，直直看進我的雙眼...我忍耐著恐懼引發的興奮感，身體微微發抖。」-- 吳明益“灰面鵟鷹、孟加拉虎以及七個少年”。
A scene from The Jungle Book immediately came alive in my mind. I felt like one of the monkeys who were mesmerized and helpless as soon as their eyes met those of a hundred-year-old python. I did not step involuntarily toward the hawk, as the monkeys in the story were drawn toward the python, but the hawk’s large yellow iris, evoking fear and wonder at the same time, was burned into my memory.
I was so engrossed by the experience that I don’t think I attempted to identify the hawk at all at the time. Looking back, it was likely an Accipiter virgatus fuscipectus, the endemic subspecies of Bersa in Taiwan. A more common accipiter would be Crested Goshawk (Accipiter trivirgatus formosae), also an endemic subspecies, but larger in size (length 40-48 cm), comparable to Cooper’s Hawk. Bersa is similar in length (25-36 cm) to Sharp-shinned Hawk.
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| Bersa, by PeiWen Chang / Flickr |
Having the mixed feelings of awe and alarm when a hawk and a person meet eye to eye is no doubt not rare. An instinctive fear of a predator seeps into an admiration for a magnificent being. The result is a confused yet stimulating sensation that makes one reflect on one’s place in nature, in evolution, and perhaps in the endeavor to live peacefully with other creatures on earth.
It was such a delight when I heard on the radio a physicist and writer, Allan Lightman, talking about his experience of eye contact with ospreys. He was in Maine in August, and two young ospreys hatched that summer took flight for the first time, heading straight for him as he stood on the deck of his house.
“My first instinct was to run back into the house, but something made me stand there. And when the birds got within about 20 feet of my face, for a half second they made eye contact with me. It was the most profound communication with a nonhuman that I have ever had. I was shaking and I was in tears. In that half second, they said that we are brothers on this land, we should share this land together. We’ve been watching you all summer, you’ve been watching us, and we are all part of nature.”
Recognizing the similar strand of thought going through his mind when he had his raptor gaze gave me a quiet thrill. Then I came across a passage written by my favorite Taiwanese novelist Wu Ming-Yi. He describes a young boy’s reaction to the overpowering stare of a hawk in a story published in 2019. “In the dim light its head turned, aiming its round black beak and huge irises at me. Forcefully, it looked me straight into the depth of my eyes...I put up with the excitement stimulated by my fear, trembling slightly.” (My translation.)「在微光中牠轉過頭，以圓滑的黑喙與巨大的瞳孔對準了我，強而有力的，直直看進我的雙眼...我忍耐著恐懼引發的興奮感，身體微微發抖。」-- 吳明益“灰面鵟鷹、孟加拉虎以及七個少年”。
The gaze of the raptor evoked such emotions, and even physical responses! My own reaction to Bersa’s gaze pales by comparison with their accounts, but the encounter remains as vivid as ever in my memory.
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| Bersa, by PeiWen Chang / Flickr |
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