“I look. There it is. I feel it. The insistent pull to the heart that the hawk brings, that very old longing of mine to possess the hawk's eye. To live the safe and solitary life; to look down on the world from a height and keep it there. To be the watcher; invulnerable, detached, complete. My eyes fill with water. Here I am, I think. And I do not think I am safe.” DeathLossGriefDyingBereavementHawksH Is For HawkFalconeryHelen Macdonald Author:Helen Macdonald