Falcon

I had taking a drive to Tybee Island with the ultimate goal of taking some long exposure shots of waves hitting a long, stone jetty. The sun was setting and I w...
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I had taking a drive to Tybee Island with the ultimate goal of taking some long exposure shots of waves hitting a long, stone jetty. The sun was setting and I was walking under the main pier, about a hundred feet from the surf when I heard the sound of strong, beating wings. I looked around, startled by the frantic fight between a falcon and a pigeon. I quickly pulled out my camera as the scuffle went from the air to the ground. I snapped pictures as both birds performed their morbid ballet.

Soon, the pigeon lay still beneath the falcon’s talons and I waited, laying perfectly still, twenty feet away. As the bird began to rip into it’s catch, I crawled forward, an inch a minute. The falcon was well aware of my presence, and I held my breath, hoping that the need to finish it’s meal outweighed the potential danger I posed. Thirty minutes later and I was close enough to hear the sound of ripping flesh and see the fresh blood gleaming on it’s beak. I began to snap pictures.

At first, the falcon ignored me, tearing into the pigeon with abandon, but as time passed, it began to take more notice of me. It would stop it’s feast and look me straight in the eyes, holding my gaze until I put the viewfinder back up to my face. Time passed in this way for ten minutes until the falcon had eaten it’s fill. One last time, it looked at me, and then it flew away.
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