This hawk rides the currents each afternoon above Point Dume. You can tell it's the same one because, when he spreads his wingtip to fine-tune his flight, the feathers form a pattern.

Like all hawks, this is a patient bird. He hovers for minutes at a time above potential prey. They see him at first, freeze or scatter, but he lulls them, becomes part of the skyscape. He's there, has always been there, until he gathers his wings in one swift gesture, plummets to earth for the kill.