Great essay by Andrew Becker, “My great-grandfather
the crow killer” (HCN, 3/1/04: My great-grandfather the crow
killer). My father — a 40-year employee with the National
Park Service — was known far and wide for his passion and
skills in “birding” (bird-watching). Since his passing over a
decade ago, I have often noticed him watching me from on high. He
was the kestrel I spotted almost daily on my commute between
Furnace Creek and Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley. He’s the
peregrine that sometimes “follows me” when I take my lunchtime walk
near Lake Powell in Page, Ariz. I couldn’t have wished for a
better afterlife for my dad — to become what he loved so
much. Thanks much for Andrew Becker’s wonderful words.
Marianne Karraker
Page,
Arizona
This article appeared in the print edition of the magazine with the headline My father, the kestrel.
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