Goshawks

Goshawks are the prey at the center of the Tiratore Scelto’s recollections of hunting as a boy. Their elusive appearance made them difficult targets, but the account lingers just as insistently on what happened after a shot landed: the bird’s fall, its bloodied feathers, and the hunter’s sadness rather than triumph.

Appearance and pursuit

The Goshawks were numerous near the hunter’s home, and he sought them farther away when their numbers in the surrounding area began to dwindle. At first, these expeditions were made on horseback. Later, once he was old enough to drive—and when gasoline was not too expensive—he went out in a van, extending the reach of the hunt.

Their gray-blue feathers seemed like mist. Under a veiled sky, the birds could disappear and reappear, making them nearly invisible against their surroundings. For the hunter, this shifting visibility made a difficult target into a challenge: the bird was fast, and at moments almost impossible to see.

The hunt and its aftermath

The hunter says he sometimes missed, but more often hit the Goshawks. A successful shot pulled a bird from the sky as if an invisible cable ran from its body to his fist. On the ground, the bird lay motionless, eyes wide and fine plumage stained with blood.

The account does not present the kill as a clean victory. The hunter speaks softly to the fallen bird, telling it that it now knows who has power over it, though he cannot fly as it can. He does not rejoice; sadness colors his voice. The bird’s helplessness makes the hunter’s physical control unmistakable, but also leaves the victory troubled rather than celebratory.

Narrative significance

The Goshawks’ near-disappearance from view gives the hunting scenes their repeated rhythm: the bird vanishes, returns to sight, and becomes the object of an impulsive shot. The passage then slows from pursuit to the stillness of the body on the ground. Its attention to the bird’s bloodied plumage and open eyes refuses to let the kill remain an abstract feat of marksmanship.

Through the hunter’s subdued address to his prey, the Goshawks also expose a contradiction in the power he claims. He can bring down a creature whose flight he cannot equal, yet the act leaves him melancholy. The recollection therefore holds the thrill of pursuit and the cost of domination together, presenting the hunted bird as both a difficult target and a living creature whose death unsettles the hunter.