weather proof hunters

My day was dissected by errands. My morning list ran into a hitch and resulted in a last minute add on to the afternoon list.
I recruited my mother to ride shotgun, and off we spun.
Such a gray drizzly day.
A hawk on the power line reminded me of the lone hunter my daughter and I had seen earlier that week, his eye trained on the tangle of yellowing grass below. He had been at the same spot morning and afternoon, morning and afternoon. We mused that he must be doing well there if he kept returning.
Trees flashed past and there was another hunting hawk, and then another.
As we wound our way down towards River Road, we spotted a fourth hawk, his shoulders hunched in concentration.
Later, as we churned our way back up the hillside, a kestrel was suddenly there on our right, gripping the power line overhead. It shook off the rain, drops flying, orange feathers standing out like a halo.
Weather proof hunters.