What Nature Teaches Us About Power and Vulnerability
Examining the behavior of the Red-tailed Hawk and connecting it to our own lives
There are many amazing phenomena happening in nature right in front of our eyes: The murmuration of a flock of hundreds of thousands European Starlings over a country field, the mating pairs of Western Grebes running across the water together side by-side, and perhaps my favorite, the supposed (but not really!) riding on the back of a hawk by a much smaller bird.
And so many of us seem to miss it.
Lately, I’ve been writing a lot about technology, in particular my work in product management, but I find myself often looking to nature and seeing little special moments like those show me the way. The hawk's experience mirrors our own navigation of power, vulnerability, and adaptation in an age where technology both empowers and challenges us in unexpected ways.
Then it hit me.
It’s those most powerful hunters that can still be put into check. In this situation, the supposedly most powerful hunter in the sky can still momentarily be displaced by creatures it could easily overpower. It then got me to thinking about our own paradox of how we are all journeying through this life and thinking the way my brain does, making a correlation to our grasp on technology and its place in our society.
Common Sighting, Often Underestimated
The Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) exists in a curious space between the ordinary and the extraordinary. According to recent eBird data, it stands as North America's most reported hawk with over 8.7 million observations. We see them perched on telephone poles along highways, their distinctive silhouettes scanning for movement below, so common we barely register their presence.
Yet in this very abundance lies something remarkable. I've been fortunate to observe these birds up close; from holding them during a visit to a falconry center to participating in field studies tracking their movements. And every time, I see them, I see their startling intensity, the fierce intelligence in their eyes, the perfect evolutionary design of their bodies built over millions of years for hunting precision.
How many aspects of our own lives follow this pattern? The technologies that fundamentally reshape our existence—smartphones, social networks, artificial intelligence—quickly transition from miraculous to mundane. We scroll past wonders that would have seemed impossible a generation ago, conditioning ourselves to overlook the extraordinary when it becomes familiar.
Many Forms, One Essence
What continues to fascinate me about the Red-tailed Hawk is its surprising diversity within unity. Across North America, there are at least sixteen distinct "morphs" of Buteo jamaicensis in geographical subspecies with variations in plumage and size. The light morphs of the Western United States contrast dramatically with the dark morphs of the Great Plains. Juvenile hawks look so different from adults that they're often misidentified as entirely different species.
Yet beneath these visual differences, they remain fundamentally the same creature; same hunting behaviors, same evolutionary lineage, same ecological role. Their diversity represents not fragmentation but adaptation, each variation a response to specific environmental conditions.
I see in this a reflection of our own nature. We too adapt to our environments, developing different "morphs" of ourselves across contexts while maintaining our essential core. In professional settings, family gatherings, or digital spaces, we present different aspects of ourselves. The pressure to completely reinvent ourselves with each technological shift or cultural moment intensifies this tendency, sometimes disconnecting us from our authentic center.
The hawk reminds us that true adaptation doesn't require abandoning identity. Its variations serve function, not fashion—each representing a genuine response to real environmental needs. What might our digital lives look like if we approached adaptation with similar authenticity? If each version of ourselves emerged not from external pressure but from genuine engagement with changing conditions?
The Vulnerability of Power
Returning to that moment of mobbing—the small bird harassing the hawk—I'm struck by how perfectly it captures a universal truth about power and vulnerability. Experts tell us this behavior typically occurs when smaller birds protect their nesting territories from predators. The hawk, despite its overwhelming physical advantage, rarely retaliates. It simply adjusts its path, sometimes climbing higher to escape the harassment.
This scene captures something essential about power's limitations. The hawk's very specialization as a predator creates vulnerability—its size makes it less maneuverable, its hunting focus makes it temporarily blind to peripheral threats. Even apex predators have their moments of vulnerability.
In our technological landscape, similar dynamics unfold. Expertise in one domain doesn't shield us from challenges in others. The most accomplished among us face criticism and resistance that can feel disproportionate to our capabilities. Social media platforms have democratized the ability to "mob" perceived threats, creating environments where even the most knowledgeable voices can be temporarily displaced.
What wisdom might we draw from the hawk's response? It neither abandons its territory nor wastes energy fighting battles it doesn't need to win. It simply adjusts its flight path, sometimes rising higher for perspective, recognizing that not every challenge requires engagement.
Patience Before Action
Watch a hunting Red-tailed Hawk and you'll witness a master class in patience. Hours of vigilant observation precede moments of decisive action. Perched motionless on its lookout, the hawk embodies focused attention—present, aware, unrushed. When it finally moves, the action is committed, precise, and purposeful.
This hunting rhythm—patient observation followed by decisive action—feels increasingly foreign in our hyperconnected world. Digital technologies have conditioned us for immediate response, constant engagement, and perpetual reaction. Notifications demand attention, metrics reward speed over deliberation, and algorithms favor frequency over depth.
Perhaps here lies the hawk's most valuable lesson. In a world designed to fragment our attention and accelerate our responses, the capacity for patient observation becomes revolutionary. The wisdom to watch and wait, to gather perspective before acting, may be the most essential adaptation we can cultivate.
Evolution Through Discernment
Our true evolution isn't about constant reinvention or endless adaptation to every new trend and technology. It's about maintaining our core essence while selectively embracing change, recognizing when to engage with challenges and when to rise above them, and finding the patience to watch and wait before taking decisive action.
The Red-tailed Hawk doesn't fight its environment—it works with what's available while remaining true to its nature. It doesn't waste energy on unnecessary confrontations or react to every potential threat. It observes, discerns, and acts with purpose.
In a world that pushes us toward constant reaction and transformation, this discernment becomes our most valuable capacity. Which changes serve our authentic nature, and which simply drain our energy? When should we engage with the challenges that "mob" us, and when should we simply rise higher for perspective?
The path forward isn't abandoning technology or embracing every new development—it's developing the hawk's discernment. Learning to soar above the noise when necessary, to focus our attention on what truly matters, and to act with precision when the moment calls for it.
As I watch the sky now, I see the Red-tailed Hawk differently—not just as a common bird of prey, but as a living embodiment of adaptation without loss of identity, of power that acknowledges vulnerability, of patience that precedes purposeful action. In its ordinary extraordinariness, I find a template for my own evolution through an increasingly complex world.
