The Hawk's Message
I’ve walked the same early morning hike behind my home for years. Recently, something strange has been happening.
At first, I was scared. Then I was alarmed, and now I am curious.
A few weeks ago, I noticed a hawk circling and several small birds harassing it. This is common. I stopped on the path to watch, as I have done MANY times before. This time, as the small birds flew away, the hawk circled, looked me in the eye, and began flying directly toward me. It was terrifying, I ducked and screamed (as any reasonable person would…). As I quickly walked on, the hawk called and circled above me; my heart pounding.
What caused that? What was going on? I did what I’ve done so often, watch birds, and this time the bird was watching me!
A week later, close to the original encounter, but a little further up on the hill, I heard a sharp swish, right behind me. The hawk had flown right behind me. I continued walking, aware that a hawk was near. She circled me, made eye contact, and flew straight towards me, again! I ducked and tried to move quickly away from the hawk (which is hard to do because they fly and my feet don’t move that fast!)
What was going on? My dad, whom I trust for advice with these types of things, told me not to be afraid, but to consider the hawk had a message for me. He said, “Next time, just talk to the hawk.” (I was hopeful there would not be a next time…)
But…
Twice this week, as I was walking near the same place on the trail, the hawk started circling me, calling, flew in front of me, made eye contact, flew towards me, and eventually left me. This week, I was a little less scared, and I spoke out loud.
“I see you. I’m Amy. I’m no threat. What message do you have for me?”
Four close encounters with a hawk in just a few weeks. What does it mean?
My dad gave me a book, Dancing Otters and Clever Coyotes: Using Animal Energies, The Native American Way, by Gary Buffalo Horn Man and Sherry Firedancer, with the pages on hawk encounters marked.
Buffalo Horn Man & Firedance write, “As the complent of owl…” (I mean, I’ve been an owl person for years, I have so many owl stories…but curiously I’ve been seeing less owls recently…) “If a hawk is circling above you, it may be saying that you need to embrace the power of your inner fire and come alive with energy and passion for life…If a hawk has appeared to you, its advice might be to share a gift you have been given so as to keep the flame of your spirit aglow.”
(This does feel very cogent to my life right now…)
An online source says about hawk encounters:
“Across nearly every spiritual and cultural tradition, seeing a hawk is viewed as a positive omen. Hawks are considered deliberate messengers rather than random wildlife, bringing guidance, protection, or validation.
Common interpretations of a hawk sighting include:
A transition is approaching. Hawks frequently appear at turning points: a career shift, the end of a relationship, a major decision looming on the horizon. The hawk doesn’t predict the change so much as signal that you’re entering a threshold moment.”
I AM approaching a transition: in just a few weeks, I’m traveling to New York City for a week to start a Master of Divinity at General Theological Seminary. Does the hawk know?
Buffalo Horn Mand and Firedancer write, “Owl is a harbinger of change about to happen.” I had meaningful owl expereinces for several years, but now, I rarely see owls. Were the owls getting me ready for change, and now the hawks are guiding me into the transformation? I don’t know, but…
What has been tangibly helpful is understanding my hawk encounters over the past few weeks as a metaphor. Metaphors are a form of spiritual direction that helps me understand the ordinary movements of life through more tangible and ultimately instructive means.
The first time I saw the hawk flying at me, I was SCARED! My heart was pounding; I was worried about my safety. I didn’t know if I had made the hawk mad or what its next move would be. (Having a hawk lock eyes and fly towards your head is a really intense experience!) As I’ve met the (same?) hawk different times, I’m becoming more comfortable that she means me no harm. I haven’t reached the point of enjoying it when she circles me and flies towards me, but I’m less scared. I’m able to find my voice and introduce myself, tell her about me (while walking confidently and quickly forward…)
It’s similar to when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. At first, I was terrified, and then, as I became familiar with the idea, the people, and the path, it became less scary. I was able to appreciate the experience (while still wishing I wasn’t having it!) and embrace what was being asked of me, and lean into the “growing edge” (a term that I learned from listening to and reading Parker Palmer) of it all.
The same is true of the path I currently find myself on, formation to become a priest. At first, it was terrifying (who am I to say “I think I might be called to be a priest? ”), but with each successive step in the process, I’m not always at ease, but I have befriended the idea, the path, the call. I’m committed to following this path as far as it takes me.
It feels poignant to have these encounters with a hawk at this time. I do believe that animals are curious, sensitive to energy, and offer us insight.
I also know I’m not the only one this particular hawk is interacting with.
Yesterday on my hike (I was taking a different path so I wouldn’t see my hawk friend, I just wasn’t up for another heart-pounding interaction!) I watched the same hawk at nearly the same spot on the trail circle, then fly towards an unsuspecting hiker. She screamed and waved her arms…and then I heard her laugh. The hawk circled her a few more times before moving on. I realized, as I watched the interaction, that the hawk was playing. Watching it felt joyful and fun. I think if (when) I walk that part of the trail again, I’ll be more at ease with the hawk.
This morning, I found a hawk feather in a small parking lot where the trail begins. You aren’t supposed to take hawk feathers, but I picked it from the asphalt and moved it back to the foothills. I found a spot off the trail where I carefully placed the hawk feather on the ground, with gratitude for all the hawk is teaching me. As I stepped back on the trail…I noticed on the mountain ridge directly above me a young buck, watching as I offered the hawk feather back to nature…It all felt very…right.
I recently finished In The Absence of the Ordinary: Soul Work For Times of Uncertainty by Francis Weller. In it, he writes, “Through the ongoing generation of images, we are invited to sense our deeper lives and become receptive to the dreams of the soul and the earth.” This is what my hawk is inviting me to. She might be curious and playful, living her best hawk life. For me, she is offering an invitation to my deeper life, in preparation for a big transition. She is reminding me of my roots-the mountains and hills of Idaho and showing me I can fly.
Thank you, hawk…now, can you let me hike in peace?
I recommend In The Absence of the Ordinary: Soul Work For Times of Uncertainty by Francis Weller. It’s a lovely, wise book. I’ve selected just a few passages I highlighted in my reading of the book. Read each passage slowly and notice if a word, phrase, or idea sparkles. Slow down with the words and see if they also hold an invitation for you.
“Place to indigenous cultures and the indigenous souls, is a living presence. Familiar watering holes, majestic mountains, sacred groves of trees, painted rocks, and caves where initiations were held added another dimension to life that is quite foreign to modern consciousness. To live within a sentient geography is to find oneself embedded in a rich and engaging terrain, a land that speaks.”
In The Absence of the Ordinary: Soul Work For Times of Uncertainty by Francis Weller
What matters most to our soul is found in places of slowness, the terrain of geologic speed. For the sake of our souls and the soul of the world, slow down and come into the rich loam of the waiting world.
In The Absence of the Ordinary: Soul Work For Times of Uncertainty by Francis Weller
We live in an ongoing tension between forgetting and remembering. Nearly all enduring cultures developed practices designed to help us remember three central things: who we are, where we belong, and what is sacred.
In The Absence of the Ordinary: Soul Work For Times of Uncertainty by Francis Weller
A special note:
I’ve started a new Substack!
I’m about a year and a half into a four or five-year process of becoming ordained as a priest in the Episcopal church.
I’m starting an M.Div program in August, and I’m moving deeper into my formation.
Right now, this is a private Substack (meaning only people I share it with can find it). I might change that as it develops… or not… time will tell.
I plan to post regularish.
If you would like to follow along, I welcome you! (You will need to subscribe to have access!)
Amy, this is all so soul-stirring. The hawk’s greeting and energy seem perfect for the start of your new adventure. New York! Seminary! I’d love to follow along. I’m a Presbyterian pastor, serving a UCC church. Many blessings in this calling.
This is such a beautiful post. Thanks for sharing your encounters. And…have a wonderful time in NYC! I graduated from Union but never made it down to General.