A matter of perspective.

Many years ago, a question arose among a group of ladies I happened to be hanging out with, and who had been admiring a pair of parakeet pictures on a wall. One turned to the rest and asked, “What type of bird would you be, if you could?”

Well, the other women chose various chirpy birds one is thrilled to find in one’s garden. You know, cardinals, bluebirds, chickadees, doves. Sweet, lovely, prone to uplifting morning song or at least gentle cooing. I refrained from answering. One by one, every eye turned my way.

“Well,” came the prompt, “what bird would you like to be?”

I took a deep breath and answered. “A hawk.”

Hmmm. Feet shuffled as two women actually sidled away from me, eyeing me askance. The woman who had initially asked the question cocked her head at me. “Odd choice,” she said.

“Not really,” I responded.

“But why,” she persisted, “would you want to be a hawk?”

“Because,” I said, “a hawk is beautiful, strong, and fierce.”

The discussion ended there. I stand by my answer to this day.