TWIN CITIES, MINN. — A14 turned out to be the last gate in the entire terminal, and by the time I’d walked all the way there, my hopes for Snowy Owls were pretty much gone. There just wasn’t much nature to be seen out the windows, but after sitting around a few moments, I walked over to a window that overlooked the main road through the airport.

The median held a few sorry-looking spruce trees and some traces of dirty snow. Across the road was another gigantic complex of buildings. I could not see even so much as a House Sparrow.

But eventually, I caught a glimpse of two birds flying over the buildings far away. I thought perhaps they were Rock Pigeons, but as one approached and swooped up onto the corner of a tall and distant building, I knew it had to be a falcon. But which one? Dared I hope for a Gyrfalcon?

Returning to my luggage, I excavated my binoculars and went back to the window. The bird was indeed a falcon, and bulky one at that. Its dark, bluish back was facing me, and as it turned its head, I could just barely make out the pale marks of a peregrine on its face.

The bird worked its way around till it was facing me, and I could see its dusky vest and, just barely, its bright yellow legs. Then a Rock Pigeon flew past below, and the falcon grew restless, finally lurching forward as if to take off — but freezing for a moment, wings fully extended.

Then it did drop, and I lost it behind the buildings. It looped back, swooping high, almost vertically, and dropping out of sight again. A moment later, it was back on its corner.

No breakfast that time.