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The falcon, aglow with the evening’s golden light, banked sharply over the onion field. In response, the seemingly inactive rows suddenly propelled into motion as pipits burst into flight, alarm calls ringing out in warning. After just seconds of the birds whirling together, the falcon flew away empty-taloned, wheeling to the west, and the field returned to its visual dormancy. This time, however, I knew that the pipits were there in the bunches of onions, perhaps trying for one last insect snack before going to roost.