What Hawks Taught me About Sex

    Standing on my back deck, I notice my neighbors’ perfectly manicured lawns and then look at my yard. Green tufts
of grass are trying to sprout amidst the brown dead vestiges of winter that far outweighed them. A dirty old tent, caked in green and brown, resulting from mud and mold, sits off to the back of my yard. Its half-open flap gently rises and falls in the breeze. In it lies hay, old rabbit and dog cages, and other unsightly things I tried to hide away from view. With a sigh, I tell myself, “It is what it is,” and head down the steps into the yard.

    I am off to check for eggs. The girls have just started laying again now that the sun stays in the sky past 430 PM. We are in the middle of a post-COVID supply chain crunch and a bird flu outbreak, leaving us in a global egg shortage. My hens, specially selected to be the breed that lays over winter, decided not this year! I know my neighbors must think I am being stingy. ‘Damn chickens,’ I swear under my breath. I buy off my neighbors with fresh farm eggs so they won’t rat me out for having them
in the first place.

   As I walk towards the chicken coops, my entourage of chickens follows me. The rabbits stop munching as I walk by their area. Some run to the front of their crates hoping to get nose pets. I can’t resist a begging rabbit, so I oblige. Bunnies satisfied, I stand up and look up at the sky. My heart expands in happiness seeing the blue instead of the grey, the sun instead of rain. Scanning the sky, I notice a hawk in the tree hanging over my chicken yard. “Oh shit”! I have measures to prevent hawks from dive-bombing, grabbing a chicken or rabbit (I let them run around there, too), and flying away scot-free. Regardless, I know a hawk can do so from close range after some strategic planning. With the hawk this close, I fear that is precisely what It might be doing.  Before I can say or do anything on my own accord, the most marvelous thing occurs. ANOTHER HAWK SWOOPS DOWN on top of what I now assume is a ‘her,’ and they start mating. I watch in awe.

    Blizzard, my livestock Guardian dog, also sees the commotion and takes off from the porch, running and barking towards them. The

male hawk quickly vacates his spot-on top of the female and flies away. She is left hanging on as the branch sways wildly. She lifts her tail feathers up and down- to get her balance, quake in satisfaction, or shiver from unmet expectations; who could know? I am in awe. Not every day does one see hawk sex. Being the neighborhood weirdo that I am (If I ever doubted, my cool teenager never fails to inform me that that is what all the neighbors think of me- he hangs out with their kids, so he knows, I suppose), I ponder what I just saw.

Firstly, I am so utterly thankful to have seen it. In our modern concrete world, nature is a rare commodity not always seen so up close and personal.

   Worse, when the opportunity does arise, do we even notice, so busy are we with our devices or intrusive thoughts?  I am so thankful today I was enthralled by the sun and the beauty of the day that I took time to look around rather than having my head down dogging chicken turds as I went about my daily chores. But this time I saw it!!  I wondered how long the hawks would have been together if Blizzard had not come barreling down at them with his deep, menacing bark. If hawk mating is anything like rabbit mating, then I have an idea. Not long at all! In a minute at most, the male bunny topples off the female bunny in a satisfied stupor.  Blunt contact with the

ground revives him back to consciousness.

  I’ve noticed, however, that the male rabbit of the pair will not focus on the female if another male rabbit is in the vicinity. Even if separated by a barrier, the two male rabbits will become aware of each other’s presence and begin frantically digging under the
barrier to attack each other.

   To secure his breeding rights, a rabbit must first secure his area, fighting all possible threats. Once any known threats are subdued, he can turn his mind and hormones to other endeavors. There will always be risks in nature, so speed pays off in terms of finishing up. 

   This got me thinking about our societal expectations around sex.  When and how did the  “Lionel Richie, all-night-long” scenario become the ideal. For most of human existence, we did not have the luxury of private quarters for couples or enough time away from the daily grind for such time-consuming licentious endeavors.  We also were in closer contact at night, snuggling for warmth and sharing resources such as beds and blankets. Without the distractions of TVs, smartphones, games, and radios, maybe there was more human connection and less of a need to ‘create the moment’ maybe? The secrecy of the situation may also played a part. Not in the exhibitionist way but in the form of getting away with something private and intimate without anyone knowing (or one would hope not). Does that add to the thrill?  Maybe all these factors played a role in making sex a quicker but still enjoyable act for both parties involved.

   I wonder if sex is more complicated in today’s world?  Many industries would have us think so.  There are medications, there are gadgets and costumes. There is therapy and self-help books. There are gyms a plethora, botox, lip plumps, eyelashes and surgical physical enhancements, not to mention cool sculpting and whatever else is out there., and oh yeah, porn. 

   Maybe this has driven anxiety, created false expectations, and has led to more significant sexual dysfunction than there otherwise would be?