Kestrels (falco spaverius) are one of my most beloved and favorite of birds.
They are the smallest member of the falcon family and are found throughout the Americas. Like all birds of prey, they are strongly connected to the accuracy of movement. Their most prominent features are speed and grace in hunting. They perch high above their prey and when the time is right they swoop down, hover in the air and attack. Amongst most birds, hovering is uncommon. This represents the natural skill these small falcons have — to use flight to the maximum advantage.*
How is it that I know about them? Well, one had chosen my backyard in Chicago, back in the Spring/Summer of 1984. I was about 11 or 12. I had noticed that my devilish twin brother John, was having way too much fun with the hose. I was curious so I decided to investigate. I think he joked and said something like "look at that dumb pigeon, he's just taking it!" all the while spraying it and all its feathers wet with the hose. I looked and immediately knew it was no pigeon. It was brown, with black flecks in it's chest and wings, dark crown, Cleopatra-like markings on the sides of its eyes, a beautiful hooked beak and long talons for a dove-sized bird. I realized quickly it was a young bird of prey, and immediately yelled at John to stop because he was hosing down some form of hawk. Thankfully he listened, looked again, dropped the hose and left. When I went up to the bird, I looked at it and it returned its stare at me with intense dark eyes, unusually calm considering what it went through. I found a worm, held it up to its beak, but nothing. Not interested. I wondered, would it feel comfortable enough to jump on my hand? So, I held out my right hand to it, index finger pointing long, thumb away for clearance. And yes, it jumped onto my hand. From that moment on, I knew he/she felt comfortable enough with me, or it at least knew that when I showed up, the blast of water stopped and I was somehow connected to that. What I later found out was it was an American kestrel, a female because it was primarily brown. An adolescent still, it probably got tired from flying with new wings and on an empty stomach. It looked thin. My initial guess was that it was a young peregrine falcon due to similar markings on the side of its face, but was told by the wildlife rescue folks who came the next day that this was a frequent mistake. Back then, I only had one resource to measure my guess/research — the encyclopedia, so I didn't feel too bad, happy to know the exact species. Nonetheless, she and I bonded. She never bit me, and I was immediately drawn to her graceful beauty, her fierce eyes and need for inevitable freedom. She was picked up the next day and checked out to be healthy. As far as I know, she was released back into the prairie farmlands of Illinois and Wisconsin.
Kestrels gifts include accuracy of movement, speed and grace, mental concentration, acting at the correct moment, patience and precise action.*
The call came late in the evening, several, 6/4/2011. When the caller doesn't quit trying and you are in bed sleeping, it's a first warning. I picked up my phone. Seven calls made by my mom, one from my nephew. Something was wrong. Brace yourself. Then I heard it.
I think your brother is dead.
I hear a radio dispatcher in the background. Is the police there? Let me talk to him.
I'm sorry, he was already gone when he was found.
Silence.
He did it. He finally did it. Third try, and he did it. Fuck. And Johnny found him? His son? Fuck. Crap. My mom tried to give him CPR? Shock is settling in us all. I know. But when the reality of this hits, what will follow?
My twin brother committed suicide. His third attempt and succeeded. The other 2 times, he was lucky (at least to his loved ones), he was unsuccessful. But he finally did it. Shock. Bitterness. Disbelief. Anger. Be strong Julia, the family needs you.
In kestrel people this advantage shows through the strengthening of ones intuitive agility. Kestrel people frequently have the urge to sit or be placed in a position with expansive views. They have a strong desire to spend time alone, and need to feel a sense of independency to keep a relationship healthy. Suited well to any kind of work that entails planning, they also make great diplomats and strategists. *
I flew out the next evening to be back in Chicago. Monday morning, family meeting. Discuss what needs to happen among his children, his ex-wife and my mother. We have consensus on what needs to happen. I start making calls: medical exam department, John's psychiatrist, hospital, funeral homes. Within 2 hours, I've secured the information I needed and we were on our way to a selected funeral home. Tuesday morning. Burial and cemetery details are secured as well. Remaining was service planning. My niece and I worked quickly to provide a final draft of scriptures, eulogy, memories and photo of John to the reverend conducting the services. Funeral services and burial was scheduled for 1pm Thursday. The last person I was giving any thought to was myself, trying to be the one to hold it all together and keep the calm in the family when possible. But, what I learned most definitely is everyone processes death differently, and I could do only so much.
Reality hits when an open casket is allowed towards the end of the service and that's when I see John. It's been a while. Too long. Stupid disagreements, arguments and an estranged wedge had gotten lodged between us. Had I known that wedge would also cut me off from my twin, I would have, could have, should have….. yes, guilt starts to set in. I break. My heart breaks.
Kestrel shows how to discover ones personal rhythm and act accordingly. As ones personal energy field is increased and broader vision is developed, one learns when to act and when not to.*
The anger, guilt, bitterness, disbelief are gone. In it's place come the waves of sadness, numbness and difficulty of clear mindedness. There is something about twins. It's true. While we weren't identical—he was boy and I, girl—we still had experiences only twins could possibly know of. Where one chips a tooth and the other does the same a week later; sputtering the same exact phrase much more frequently than the best of friends; or just having a sense, knowing what each other is feeling. My rhythm is off. I go, then stop, a lot. It's hard to know what to do first or where to pick up. It started the week before his death. I felt fatigue unusual for me, a very deep form of fatigue. I thought I was just over doing it as usual. The day of his death, I cancelled out on plans for an outdoor concert experience in Sonoma because I felt off. The weather didn't help. It had been raining all day. There goes $170 down the drain, but I just didn't feel like going. In bed by 8:30pm. And that is when a few hours later, I get the calls.
There have been signs, symbols happening, which I can't explain. They scare me but also give me great comfort. I've listed them.
1) The week leading up to John's death: Two mourning doves were hanging around our driveway area for the week for the first time. Even my neighbor who shares a drivewaywith us noticed. One of them kept flying out of one of the large planters every time I opened the front door. I think, That's sweet and all, but are you sure you want to cozy up there?
2) I arrive in Chicago 1am, Monday. I find out that Mama dove has laid 1 egg. We hadn't realized, but she had built a nest.
3) Morning of the funeral. As I got ready, I noticed something on the floor of the bathroom. The bathroom I had intensely cleaned from floor to ceiling because it was the bathroom he was found in. Who dropped something and didn't pick it up! I bent down, looked closer. It was a fallen bird, fake, dove-like. I look up. It fell from a small basket of nylon flowers sitting on the window ledge. I picked it up. An egg back home, a fallen bird here. John, are you saying goodbye? I decided in that moment to put it in his hand at the service. I did.
4) After the service. Tears. They had to come out. I needed to be alone. I walked. It's cold and wet outside from the rains. I find a park bench and sit, enclosed by bushes. I get a text. Mama dove has laid a second egg. There's that 2 thing again. Twins. More tears.
5) Saturday afternoon. Waiting in line at the airport. Another text. 2 baby kestrels were found earlier in the week back in Napa, and one on the day of my brother's funeral. They were brought in to my friend who rescues raptors for Napa county. She never has received a baby kestrel ever, let alone two, so this was just as special for her. She knows I love kestrels. She remembers why. My Chicago story with my brother. She says when they are old enough I can release them back into the wild. I'm touched.
Friday, 6/24/11. I went to see the kestrels, since I would be releasing them in 2 days. My wildlife friend gets an emergency call to get baby raccoons, so she has to leave, but I and my 5 year old son can go into the flight cage and see them. They will just fly around us, she says, so you can go in. We do that. I see one perched above, and then flying back and forth, annoyed that we entered his area. Where's the other one? Then I look down. My heart sinks. The other kestrel is on the ground, mouth partly open, barely breathing. It's wings skewed apart, unmoving. Ants already circling it. My mind reacts. Liam, go get my cell phone from the car! We have to call Angela! He runs, but comes back empty-handed because he can't get the door open. I remember, her daughter is home. I go to the house, and ask her to call her mom. We go back to the flight cage. I crouch low, and pick him up. He's gasping. I caress his limp body carefully and we walk back to the house, and place him in a pet carrier with towels around him. He feels cooler than normal. I gently pet his crown and say goodbye. We leave. I find out later that night, the little kestrel died.
I know, without a doubt, that was John's final way of saying goodbye to me. He knew I loved those birds because of our history with one.
Sunday, 6/26/2011. Release day. It is set for 4pm. We drive out to the Napa location where it was found as a baby. With Angela giving me reminders of how to handle the feisty one, I decided to do it with bare hands. He's strong. I hold him firmly yet gently. I am surrounded by my loved ones. I feel so much gratitude. For me, the act of releasing this wild animal, was not only for the kestrel itself, but also in forgiving myself and my brother for our loss of the years and to one another. To know that my wish for him is "John, May You Be at Peace".
I will always feel like half of me is missing. But, I will forever be a twin. These little blips of my experience, perhaps more special to me than anyone can know, help me heal. It is in Mother Nature herself that I feel is putting her loving embrace around us both to warm our hearts. Recently, I stumbled on a short speech given by Albert Einsten called "My Credo" in which one of the lines really moved and held me. "Although I am a typical loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has preserved me from feeling isolated. The most beautiful and deepest experience a man can have is the sense of the mysterious." More than ever, I heed these words and its meaning—in spiritu et veritate (in spirit and truth). Start every day with a purpose. Be responsible for your actions. Share yourself. And let those you know you love them.
The power of the kestrel is patience, concentration and precise action. Opportunities are recognized and acted upon at exactly the correct moment, we can learn from this. If kestrel flies into your life, it may be asking you to stimulate your mental powers and move speedily and smoothly into the future that you desire. Go with the flow, paying attention to the movement of every situation and be responsible for your actions.*
* Kestrel, Power Animal, Symbol of Speed and Grace By Ina Woolcott
http://www.shamanicjourney.com/article/6154/kestrel-power-animal-symbol-of-speed-and-grace
