L is becoming quite the animal lover. She adores our cat, Coomer. She smiles every time she sees a dog. And when the girl sees birds—forget about it—she yips like a hyena and bounces up and down with excitement.

Perhaps this is why L was happier than I’ve ever seen her Wednesday night when a bunch of red-tailed hawks went wind-surfing on the currents gusting in our neighborhood after a storm.

There had to be a dozen birds in all, circling and floating like kites. Some of them dipped so low you could make out individual feathers, and their yellowish-orange beaks.

L spotted the first hawk. Under my watchful gaze, she was standing on the living room couch and looking out the back window (this has become a favorite pastime). Immediately, she began squealing with delight, attempting to imitate my usual bird call of, “Tweet, tweet, tweet.” Judging by her excitement, I knew she’d found a bird. I had no idea how big of a bird it would be (she usually sees sparrows and crows/ravens).

When I looked up to confirm her find, I spotted a few other hawks circling more toward the front of the house. The two of us dashed to the front porch; there, we saw at least seven big birds, swooping and gliding and just generally being beautiful.

From her perch in my arms, L watched the creatures in amazement, swiveling her head from one bird to another, back and forth, for minutes at a time. Occasionally, she squealed and bounced up and down in my arms. When the spirit moved her, she’d wave at the birds and say, “Hi,” or try to say the word “bird” (which usually just comes out as “Buh”).

The bird-watching continued for nearly 20 minutes in all; the two of us speeding from front door to back door as the birds flowed with the gusts.

Throughout the escapade, L didn’t lose interest once. She laughed so hard I thought she was going to hyperventilate. I don’t remember ever seeing her as giddy or as happy. Considering Wednesday was her 11-month birthday, I’d say it was a great way to celebrate being alive.