I have a grudge against predatory birds. Hawks, eagles, falcons are on my personal black list. They may be beautiful but they kill my chickens. Two of my Silkies, and several laying hens had been ripped apart in their claws. 

The other day a friend told me about a hawk that had become entangled in the netting above the chicken coop next door. It was a frigid day and the bird was nearly frozen from the cold. It could not free its talons from the net. My friend's husband was called to come rescue the bird. They cut away the plastic and carried it to an animal rescue shelter. 

"His big eyes were frightened, and I realized he was a hungry bird too, like the chickens. He was beautiful and I wanted him to live."

I felt a softening around my decision to black ball hawks. Maybe they had a place in the world too. 

Years ago a friend whose husband had had an affair came to me weeping. We walked through the park while she sobbed and told the story about how she had been jealous, and worried, but kept trying to trust him. I felt my righteous anger begin to rumble. Then she stopped and looked at me. 

"It does not help me for you to hate him. He is the father of my children, and I still love him. I don't know if we will get through this, but your anger hurts me too."

I was stunned. How could she be capable of holding him with compassion even as he had ripped apart her family? But her words have stayed with me these fourteen years. My hate does not make anyone's life safer.

Maybe even people who cause harm deserve a place in the world too.