I was thinking about a conversation my wife Kay and one of her nieces had the other day as I walked along Wildcat Boulevard one morning. Kay’s niece was telling how her granddaughter and a cousin’s little girl had been visiting over the holidays, and that she had given the little girls a box of old clothes so they could play “dress up.”

I was thinking about a conversation my wife Kay and one of her nieces had the other day as I walked along Wildcat Boulevard one morning. Kay’s niece was telling how her granddaughter and a cousin’s little girl had been visiting over the holidays, and that she had given the little girls a box of old clothes so they could play “dress up.”
I had not thought about “dress up” for many years. My mother was the baby of a family of twelve children. There were always many cousins at family gatherings. For some reason, most of the cousins my age were girls.
It seems that my girl cousins loved to play dress up and always needed an audience for their modeling show. I was chosen to be the audience.
Sometimes I would sit for hours watching the cousins parade by with long dresses, shawls, scarves, high heeled shoes, and enormous feathered hats.(Ladies wearing hats was still popular in the 1940s and almost every well-dressed woman wore a hat.)
 For a nine or ten year old boy, these fashion shows were not the most exciting, but I made the cousins happy by being their audience. For some reason, the cousins never made me dress up. At that time in my life, boots, Levis, and a plaid shirt were the ultimate dress.
January is the time of the year when hawks mate. Their behavior sometimes seems strange as they tumble in the air, scream at each other, and do other unusual feats.
One day a huge hawk flew about six feet off the ground east of our house. It ducked under our big oak tree and headed south.
Why hawks like our neighborhood, I do not know. Recently, a neighbor told me that one day he had been looking out his window, a car stopped out on Lincoln Street, and a man jumped out.
At the same time, a hawk fluttered down the road in front of the man’s car and into our yard. The man ran and caught the hawk by covering it with a towel. The hawk appeared to be hurt. He told my neighbor that he was going to take it to a veterinarian and have the bird looked at.
The neighbor said the man was so gentle with the bird that he did not remind the man that people should not be capturing wild animals. We assume that the hawk was looked at, treated if need be, and released.
Too often, we humans get involved in wild animals’ lives if we think they are injured, sick, or abandoned. In most cases, the best thing to do is to leave the animal alone. Hopefully, this hawk was checked out and returned to the wild.
Take a walk, enjoy seeing but not touching wild animals, use your signal lights, drive with your headlights on, watch for pedestrians, and see what you notice while passing along your own Wildcat Boulevard.
    

 
 Russell Hively writes a weekly column for the Daily News.