Braving the wind to walk down the gravel road to our mail box, I turned my eyes skyward. A hawk was flying at a standstill, beating his wings against the wind.

Feeling for the poor hawk who was working so hard at going nowhere, I continued gazing upward; there I saw another, much smaller bird.  As he tried to fly against the current, the little bird was continually thrown backward in the wind--appearing to fly in reverse.

Poor little bird.