It was because of her loss that she paid no attention to the winged bolt of the sky.

But the cub saw, and it was a warning and a lesson to him--the swift downward swoop of the hawk, the short skim of its body just above the ground, the strike of its talons in the body of the ptarmigan, the ptarmigan's squawk of agony and fright, and the hawk's rush upward into the blue, carrying the ptarmigan away with it It was a long time before the cub left its shelter.

He had learned much.
Live things were meat.

They were good to eat.

Also, live things when they were large enough, could give hurt.