I have to admit that I do love Goshawks, but I don't see them often. Their smaller cousin, the Sparrowhawk is a regular sight hunting birds around the housing estate in which I live.
The local pair has a brood of hungry young and the male and female are super busy providing for the growing chicks. The local House Martins give me warning of an appearance, winging up high over the rooftops calling shrilly, before the round-winged, long-tailed hawk catapults through a snicket, vaults a fence and darts down a line of back gardens. Blink and you've missed it. Death comes out of nowhere if you are a Blackbird of House Sparrow.
Yesterday, I was just turning out of our road and the female caught a Feral Pigeon in mid-air right in front of me. They tumbled on to the verge on the opposite side of the road where she quickly dispatched the struggling bird. I stopped to have a look and she just glared at me, like an absolute psycho.
Today, the adult male perched for a while on our neighbour's satellite dish, taking advantage of the quiet evening shade. He is very handsome, a beauty compated to his partner, the beast.