Signs from the Other Side
Hawk in the Cemetery, Courtesy of Bob Tobin
When my father passed away in 2005, something strange happened around the time of his funeral.
As my mother and brother sat in the living room at my parents’ house, they heard a thud on the front door. My mother said it sounded as though someone had dropped something on her doorstep.
She got up to check it out and when she opened the front door, she found a hawk, a pigeon in its talons, sitting on a large rock in her front yard. They stared at one another for quite a while — long enough for my brother to join her and see it for himself.
After a while, the hawk flew away, carrying the pigeon with him. White feathers covered the front steps and yard. My mother said that, for weeks after, she continued to find white feathers inside her front door.
I consulted with a First Nations friend who studies nature signs, and he told me the hawk is a messenger from the other side. Whether you believe in this type of spirit communication or not, you have to admit the coincidence was weird.
Birds of prey feature often when we seek a sign from my father. This wasn’t the first freaky coincidence, nor the last, and when it’s not a hawk we get, it’s an owl.
Since this past weekend was Father’s Day weekend, I longed to receive a sign from my dad. He’s been gone for so long, and I wanted to hear from him again.
Saturday evening, my husband and I went for a walk in the cemetery next to our house. As we rounded a bend, we were halted in our tracks by two crows dive-bombing something in a tree overhanging the path we walked.
Just then, a bird cried out, and we looked up to see a hawk sitting on the branch of the tree. He stood proud and resolute, not a bit rattled by the angry crows attempting to unseat him.
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Hawk Feather, Courtesy of Bob Tobin
Awed, we climbed a nearby hill and watched them for awhile, and my husband snapped some pictures. The crows cawed in fury and flew at the hawk but never touched him. The hawk remained unrattled, keeping his perch. He gave the odd screech, a sound that sent chills through me.
Since the stalemate seemed like it would continue for a while, we decided to resume our walk. As I made my way down the hill, I spotted a feather in the grass before me: a feather from the hawk.
I picked it up, thinking about my father. Hawks always remind me of my father since that day one visited my mother after he died.
