My fascination for Hawk Mountain began more than seven years ago, when my wife Patty and I were visiting my mom at her apartment complex in West Grove, Pa.
I saw that there was going to be a presentation on some raptor sanctuary that night, and seeing as how the alternative was another marathon session of three-handed Pinochle or Kings in the Corner, I suggested we go hear the hawk talk.
So Patty, my mom and I went to the basement auditorium, where two somewhat older gents stood before a small crowd and proceeded to extol the merits of some place to see hawks in east-central Pennsylvania.
It was Charles "Broadwing Charlie" Gant and his brother-in-law.
Though their accompanying slide show of raptors in flight was of mostly small specks on a large screen, Charlie was so enthusiastic about this magical place where he had been going since 1937 that I had to see for myself.
Besides, one of the features editors at The Record (where I reported and wrote for many a year), was looking for writers for day-trip articles, and I discovered that Hawk Mountain was just two hours from North Jersey. So off I went...
Funny how small decisions later loom a little larger.
Last weekend, I had the opportunity to offer a much-belated thank-you to Broadwing Charlie. an all-around good guy who showed me the way to Hawk Mountain.
Tomorrow: Three nifty non-raptors I photographed at Hawk Mountain last weekend.
