Alone in the woods at night I've sometimes watched the small saw-whet owls thread through the dark corridor of branches above our creek.

Soundlessly catching  moths on the wing they bring the otherwise mute forest alive with their spirited chases and metallic calls. 

For many youngsters who pursued the art of falconry, a kestrel was among the first birds they flew. So was the case with my earliest days in company with birds of prey. No longer a falconer, I'm nevertheless always on the watch for them waiting patiently atop a telephone pole or hovering over a field. Their presence is a subtle and beautiful reminder that you are amid a healthy habitat alive with sustenance for these small falcons.

Like much of what I do in sculpture the metaphorical element emerges as I complete the piece. A peregrine falcon, commits to flight and does so with power and purpose. The moment is not unlike one we experience when we push off from the security of the known and into the rewards an possibilities of what lies ahead -- life requires it from time to time