Adjusting a few feathers, the redtail lets the air carry it beyond another hill. It sees a bearded old man rise, sees spectacles glinting, sees wisps of steam from the old man's mug. The redtail flaps twice and angles toward a blue-green lake. More houses there, and two dogs barking. A fish breaks the lake surface.
Houses rim the lake shore and emit sounds of people.
A car gasps loudly to life, and the old hawk watches wipers clean another windshield. The breeze eddies, picks up. Cresting another hill, the big bird veers suddenly behind trees, surprised to come upon another house so close by. It's a quiet house where other trees once stood, and the hawk slides warily off, circling into a small clifftop thermal. The air is good here.