Lost in the forest as a child in Northeast Alabama, I was alone and afraid. An encounter with a hawk gave me courage and ultimately changed my life forever.
I still remember that hollow feeling like it was yesterday. When I topped a low ridge and saw the same stretch of Koger Creek before me, I knew I was walking in circles.
It was one of the first times my parents had allowed me to wander off alone into the forest behind our house in the Appalachian foothills. I pushed the boundaries of where I should have traveled and managed to get myself lost.
Heart racing, I tried to keep calm. I couldn’t have been more than nine years old at the time, still a tenderfoot in so many ways. Lessons come fast for a country boy at that age.
Most were courtesy of my own foolishness, like the time I thought it was a scholarly idea to toss rocks at the hornets’ nest in my backyard. I gave up on being an exterminator when I got a face full of stingers and couldn’t open my eyes for a while due to all the swelling.
When you’re not smart, it smarts.
All by my lonesome in the woods, my gut sure was hurting looking at that bubbling water. I concentrated to slow my mind down. It’s something I have done my whole life when faced with a crisis, and it’s served me well. I couldn’t put it into words at that age, but I had already figured out an important truth: There’s a difference between fear and panic. The former can be useful, but the latter only sinks you deeper into the quicksand.
Studying my predicament, I reviewed the mental map of the forest in my head. It was late in the afternoon, so I had a pretty good idea of the cardinal points due to the position of the sun. I abandoned my previous route and struck out on a northerly path.
Fear was still very much with me. The light through the trees was getting dim. Evening was fast approaching. Managing to keep it together, I plodded down the side of a shallow draw. As I was making my way up the opposite incline, I saw it.
Perched atop the jagged trunk of a fallen tree was the largest red-tailed hawk I will likely ever see.
I froze in wonderment. The bird locked eyes with me, and it’s as if we connected. I could feel the confidence of the hawk, unbothered and supremely certain of itself as only an apex predator can be. Its natural beauty – the brown, red, and white of its feathers – was accentuated by the softening colors of the late afternoon sun. To paraphrase Freud, the setting held the essence of a dream.
Turning away from my stare, the hawk swept its gaze over the forest floor and then flew off. My mind returned to reality, but I felt much calmer, even more mature. A short time later I intercepted a familiar section of the creek. I made it to my front door not long before dinner.
I am not a religious man, but I do believe in interconnection. All life forms are part of a collective whole, held together by supernatural forces that are outside our comprehension. It’s how you can feel the close presence of a distant friend or loved one across time and space. There’s a comfort in the knowledge that even when you are humanly alone, you are still surrounded by your greater being.
The connection that I made with the hawk has proven to be permanent. It changed my life. I resolved myself that day to be more like the creature I encountered in the woods, confident in who I am and resolute in the direction I choose to take.
Apex predators like the hawk are not discouraged by failure. They don’t question whether they are up to the challenge just because things didn’t break their way during the hunt. The past is no master over their future.
Even to this day when I am alone in the forest, I normally see a hawk perched nearby. It often takes me back to when I was a frightened child lost in the woods.
Other times they call from a distance or soar overhead, like a spirit in the sky watching over an old friend.
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– Click to read my short story “Ghost in the Well” on a spooky adventure from my childhood in Alabama.
– Click to read my feature article “Alabama: The Mystery of the Welsh Caves” on one of the most enigmatic legends in Appalachian folklore.
– Click to view my high-resolution photo gallery featuring images from America and abroad.