I wrote this in January of 2020 on a lazy Sunday afternoon while watching football and glancing out the window at the American Kestrel below. This was my first attempt at writing about nature and before Shaking the Trees debuted. I had recently finished A Sand County Almanac and thought Aldo Leopold had written the most beautiful thing I had ever read.
At that time, I had lived here for nearly six years. I had seen Red-tailed, Red-shouldered, and Cooper’s Hawks all hunting from the soccer goal below, but something about the kestrel stood out. I realized it had become more difficult to hear the kestrel’s call due to the noise of increased traffic. Also, the open area around my home had decreased as new construction replaced open fields. That inspired me to write about the kestrel and the changes to its habitat from the vantage point of my balcony.
Letter to A Friend
My friend holds against the harsh late January wind as he surveys his shrinking domain.
Every October or thereabouts he returns giving the observant one moments of enjoyment in this growing mass of humanity. The traffic increases every year, and the sound of the highway is now always there. Though I can still hear his call.
New shopping centers are constructed; only to produce rotating tenants. Though if you listen closely, you will still hear his call.
New housing is raised. While ones born free of mortgages and rent struggle to find new homes. The new mobile phone store sells devices which distract most from hearing his call.
In a couple of months, he will take flight and head north like the airlines above.
One winter, due to old age or lack of a suitable winter home, I will no longer hear my friend’s call.
1/27/20- Frisco, TX
As of February 2026, I have not seen the larger raptors hunt from the soccer goal location in a few years, but the species are all still around. On February 20th, a male American Kestrel was hunting from a tree and the soccer goal when I got home from work. The wintering kestrels still call from above as they hunt limited suitable habitat.
2/20/26- Taken from the third-floor balcony.
