My message animal is the hawk. When I am at a point in my life when I need to make a critical decision, but am unsure of my choice, I see an
extraordinary amount of hawks about. On the morning that I was moving away from home for the first time, I was a bit distraught. I'd never been
away for so long and was going to a new place with people I'd never met. I was comfortable with my decision to move, but it didn't help make that
actual transition very easy. On the drive, I saw no less than 38 hawks. It helped relax me immensely.
Another time my best friend and I were dealing with something we had both seen in a dream and were trying to accept it/find the meaning/etc. I was
walking to work one early morning and it was weighing quite heavily on me. Bear in mind that while my animal is the hawk, my best friend's is the
crow. As I turned onto the street on which she lives, I heard a screech and looked up. There was a hawk flying above my head. I smiled and
continued to watch it, and as I did, a crow flew over and joined it. They didn't fight or argue; they just flew in slow circles together. I stood
there gawking at them until I heard a voice; it was my best friend's and she had incidentally decided to check her mailbox at right that moment. She
walked over and stood where I did, and we watched the two birds as they flew out of sight. She later revealed to me that she had also been thinking a
lot that morning about the event we'd seen. It was eerie, but in a good way...if that's possible.
Currently I'm living in an area where hawks are rare. Interestingly, the raven seems to have taken over. Here's one incident that stands out due
to its freshness...haha. Just this afternoon I was out in the desert making note of a grove of junipers that have suddenly taken ill. I heard a clap
of thunder -- I ignored it because I had just gotten there and was irritated at the prospect of having to turn back so soon. But the thunder
continued and I finally decided that it's not good to tempt nature for my own convenience. A hillside blocked out my view of the horizon, so I
couldn't see the storm, but it was loud. I had three ways out -- one was down a dry streambed from which I'd come, another along a trail from which
direction I could hear the sound of shotgun fire from the shooting range, and then finally the longest one and most unfamiliar one that went around
the hills and cut through old ranch territory. I chose the last one, because I didn't want to have to go around the shooting range, and I'd seen
water in yet another dry streambed earlier that afternoon.
I started up the path, but slowly. A raven flew right in front of me, squawking very loudly, louder than I've ever heard one because I could even
hear it over a new clash of thunder. I came around the hillside right about then and saw the storm black against the horizon and I suddenly realized
that I was dealing with a monster and had to get out of there QUICK. I was over a mile from the city edge and I'd walked out here. I bolted, not
quite running but close. The storm finally reached me when I was about twenty feet away from the first city street; the water reached me as a visible
wave across the valley. I still have welts from the hailstones on my arms.
I've always been deathly afraid of lightning (unless I'm inside
behind a window!), and I experienced more of it today than I ever have. Even with the benefit of curbs and stormdrains, the streets were flooded
over. By the time I got back home, I didn't have a dry spot on me, quite literally. I can't imagine what it would have been like if I'd still
been out in the desert.