This morning I went on an emergency call to a stunned young Cooper's
Hawk--to a TWICE stunned younger Cooper's Hawk.

My building's security man--the Tacoma Wells Fargo Building--rushed to my
office early this morning, gasping that one of our Peregrine Falcons had
flown into a window pane and was lying still on the pavement. I scrambled
downstairs, grabbing a cardboard box on the way, and outside found a
crumpled an immature Cooper's Hawk looking motionless and dead. Except that
she opened her eyes and then shut them again. Scooping her up--she didn't
resist-- I lowered her into a box and sat beside her to watch and wait and
keep the crows and gulls away.

Passersby sometimes stopped and asked what she was and then admired her.
She glared.

Within a few minutes, she stood up in the box and glared at me and at last
flapped out and sat on nearby groundcover. When she shook off most of her
daze, she startled and--THUMP--flew into the glass of the covered walkway
again.

Once again I popped her into the box and sat with her until she could track
my hand movements. When she shook off her second daze, I poured her onto
the ground cover, pointing her away from the glass. In a few more minutes,
I shooed her off, and she flapped off across the street and into a scrawny
tree, where she's been resting this morning. And glaring.

--Jim Lyles, Tacoma