Slaughter At Valley’s End - Dove Slain

A thud
A crash
A scream.

Rushing to the back door,

The evidence left behind

a look confirms what we feared
has happened.

But wait.
A bird has crashed into the window,
that is so,
but who stands proud on the fallen dove?

Sparrowhawk,
merciless killing machine
chased her hapless prey into a blind alley,
triumphant
in the blink of an eye.

Victor and victim,
hunter and quarry,
part of the cycle of life.


Birds form almost the entire diet of the sparrowhawk; they take any bird from the smallest tit to a full grown grouse. Game birds, particularly smaller, immature birds, as well as lapwing, wood pigeons, collared doves - as in this case - and jay, are well within the female bird’s capabilities. The adult male is smaller, he seldom weighs more than150 gm (5 ounces). Even he will sometimes kill birds as large as himself.  Sparrowhawks are classic opportunists; a bird table in the garden is an open invitation to them, which means that gardens have become their favourite killing fields.

15 minutes later in a flowerbed.
Conclusive evidence. The hawk took off with the
plucked remains.

Gardener is a pigeon fancier; for years he kept pigeons in his backyard; some of his birds were valuable, successful racers; sparrowhawks took more than one of them. Gardener tells a story of him lying in wait in the open window, shotgun trained on the bird table, which the hawk visited at roughly the same time in late afternoon each day. As if the raptor knew the fate which awaited him, he stayed away on that day. And the next. And the next again. Gardener almost gave up. He was going to give it one more day and, sure enough, the hawk appeared suddenly, at great speed, out of a thorn hedge, making for a bird on the table. Gardener blasted him.

I hate this story and killing raptors is now prohibited. But when you see a sparrowhawk stooped over a fresh-plucked songbird, with wings cowling the victim like a vampire’s cape, I defy any one not to be distressed. I have song thrushes nesting in the hedge.This bird is becoming rarer every year. At 5.30 every morning, the male pours his loud, bell-like clarion wake-up call across the garden from the top of the tall conifer; should I not hear this sound one morning before the end of the natural season and  the hawk have killed my thrushes, I’d wish for a shotgun myself. I know that sparrowhawks have every right to survive too but, please, leave my songbirds lone. Take a rook or jackdaw, maybe another collared dove or two, even a pigeon or gamebird. It’s the second time that I’ve seen the hawk linger by the bird table and I’ve seen him pick off a feeding sparrow and bluetit , which gave me an unhappy jolt both times.  Perhaps I’d better move the feeding station or stop feeding altogether.

Hawks are not afraid of people, so standing guard won’t help.

Thank you very much, Hilary, much appreciated.