I opened our shades this afternoon to find no birds at the feeder and feathers scattered all over the place. "Cat" always comes to mind, but no, this was another appearance of our neighborhood Cooper's Hawk, who comes to feed at our feeder every so often (once as we were eating breakfast ten feet away!). Caught red-handed, Mr. Cooper wasn't the least bit concerned about anything but the feathers, which he systematically plucked and scattered in the wind. Then, his meal of mourning dove fully prepared, he flew away with it to dine in private.
Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation’s final law–
Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek’d against his creed–
I think Lord Tennyson's a bit harsh, myself. A hawk's gotta eat too.