As I headed south on Aviation Boulevard across the southern runways of LAX to my right I spied a red-tailed hawk at my 11’oclock in midair just as it dove in pursuit of prey in the expanse of scrub beyond the fence to my left.

The hawk aborted the attempt halfway down and pulled up. Then, against a strong cross wind, it beat its wings so as to remain suspended and stationery for a good 10 seconds while it continued to search the ground. At the time it crossed my 9 o’clock it finally reacquired its quarry and streaked downward in a wing-tucked rush, coming up after a brief flurry of feathers and dirt with some sort of small rodent firmly in its talons.