Hawks-A-Plenty

I haven't posted in the past month not for want of bird action to share, but for too much to choose from. Amid new lifers, birding travel, and new species in the backyard, though, one constant has remained my companion - the backyard hawks.

Both sharp-shinned hawks and Cooper's hawks regularly visit this neighborhood, and both have found the bounty of my backyard feeders. The larger, more taciturn Cooper's hawk will stake out a spot in the yard and sit for long periods, hoping for prey to come inquisitively, incautiously, close. The sharp-shinned hawks, and I do have more than one, are less patient and will move from fence, to tree, to feeder looking for the best vantage point for dinner. I've even seen them dive into the bushes while hunting, but the bushes are thick enough to deny them dinner.

A lot of birders prefer to shoo away hawks to safeguard their more colorful, friendlier backyard birds, but I feel much the opposite. Raptors, even small urban hawks, will not visit a yard that is not a thriving environment for birds - otherwise, they'd have no prey to find. I'm always delighted to see them visit, and in the past week I've seen a pair of courting sharp-shinned hawks in my willow tree, so it's likely I'll be seeing much more of them in the weeks to come.

I hope so.

Cool as a Cooper's

Exciting news from the backyard this week: after careful study, consultation with Bill Fenimore, and more than a little research, I've concluded that this year's mystery hawk is a juvenile Cooper's hawk. I'm thrilled, as my earlier hawk visitors have most definately been sharp shinned hawks, but from the outset this one looked different. Not so much in general coloration - though the slight red tinge on the cheek and the differences in the spotting are clues - but the fact that this bird just seemed immediately larger and with a longer tail, thicker legs, and larger head.

It is a joy to watch juvenile hawks, however; they're so certain of what they need to do (catch birds) but so clumsy as to how they go about it. This one, whom I've christened Dart, landed in the yard on the birdbath, then wondered why the birds were gone. She strutted around the birdbath for several minutes, still looking both hungry and confused, before flying to the back fence and waiting concealed by overhanging branches. She's not patient, however, and after just a bit of waiting flew off beyond the fence, then later to another yard. She's a fine, big bird, however, and will undoubtedly find her dinner eventually.

I'm thrilled to have had the opportunity to observe her (and I use the gender pronoun randomly - last year's sharp shinned hawk, Spook, I'd christened male), since this month is Raptor Month on my About.com site and I am planning a feature on telling the difference between sharp shinned and Cooper's hawks. Be sure to sign up for the free weekly newsletter for all the raptor happenings!

Wilder Kingdom

The past few days have been exciting ones. While absently watching the American goldfinches feeding as I walked across the room, I was startled when one of them flew up and swiped the window. At first I thought the bird was merely agitated -- the pine siskins have been getting more and more aggressively lately -- but as it swirled away I realized it was panicked, and with good reason. A flash of red tail and razor sharp wings burst past the feeder, and I thought Spook had again come to visit. Still, while he's no longer strictly a juvenile sharp shinned hawk, he's not quite as adept as he'd undoubtedly wish to be, and the attack was unsuccessful. I went about my business and the birds went about theirs, eventually returning for their late afternoon feed.

At dinner that evening less than an hour later -- my place at the table faces the patio door -- I smiled indulgently while a house finch fluttered toward the one small tree we have. Within seconds, however, my indulgent smile became an open-mouthed gasp as that red tailed fiend again dove, apparently from the roof of the house, perhaps from the aerial antenna we've never bothered to remove. The attack was vicious, with a very determined bird of prey and a hapless finch who managed, how I haven't a clue, to escape despite being terrorized within the branches of larger neighboring trees before his pursuer flew to a nearby electrical pole. The pace of the attack, the agility of the attacker, and the burst of red, white, and grayish blue plumage immediately had me suspicious -- this wasn't Spook. Only a brief observation through my field binoculars was necessary to see the prominent eye streaks, heavy spots, and bold coloration of a new backyard guest and a new addition to my life list -- an American kestrel.

It's fascinating to see the differences between the two birds' attacks. The kestrel is much more aggressive and less patient, waiting for just a few moments on one perch before seeking a better vantage point. Spook, on the other hand, will wait for long periods to observe his territory before making a move. Perhaps, as a slightly larger bird, he knows his agility -- while always exceptional -- is just a fraction slower than a kestrel's, and his behavior needs to be a bit different if he will be successful finding dinner.

Spook has returned to the yard for the past two days, resting both in the adjacent tree and coming all the way into our yard on the small tree where the kestrel staged that blatant attack. He looks disgruntled -- this is, after all, his territory -- and perhaps he'll be around a bit more frequently now to ensure that any meals found within its borders are his own. Whomever manages to dine here will be welcome, of course, whether they prefer seeds or larger fare. Will Kess return? I can't say, but if Spook finds out, our backyard wild kingdom is sure to get even wilder still.

A Hawk's Life

Over the weekend we were struck by yet another winter storm, this one with wet, heavy snow in varying intensities throughout the day. Yet even a heavy snow does not dampen bird activity, and in the midafternoon we discovered that our yard was under strict surveillance: Spook had returned.

It is fascinating to really watch a sharp shinned hawk, or any bird of prey. For long periods of time he perched attentively where he had good visibility -- at the top of a power pole, on the peak of a nearby garage, or in a tree along the property line. Once, for a moment, he alighted on our fence, but only for as long as it took to regain his balance before finding a more comfortable perch. The smaller birds: the finches, sparrows, and siskins, were conspicuous by their absence, but eventually the American goldfinches began to taunt our accipiter friend. One finch, or several, would fly erratically near the hawk, just out of reach of a quick strike but clearly meant to be seen. Spook might shift his weight, eyeing this seemingly easy prey, but he did not easily take the bait. Only when the finches would venture just a tad too close would he launch and dive after them, testing both his and their agility to the limit.

After less than a minute of frenetic activity, Spook would find another perch and rest there, his head continually scanning the landscape in a methodical pattern, searching for a morsel. After a time, the finch taunting would begin again only to culminate in another intense chase of aerobatics.

In the hour or more that he lurked around our yard, Spook's appetite must only have grown because his attacks were unsuccessful. Yet this juvenile hawk (clearly marked by the white feathers still showing through his darker plumage) is succeeding at survival, because even in the coldest, most unforgiving winter weather, he continues to hunt, to live, and ultimately, to soar. In the midst of the darkest winter days, if we can remember his perseverance, we too shall grow stronger and wiser as we survive until spring.

Exploding Trees

While checking the seed in the feeders this afternoon (I'm about to travel for the holiday -- hopefully to see new birds!), I was walking along the side of the garage when our neighbor's apple tree exploded. Or at least, one branch exploded in a noisy burst of leaves and action.

Sharp shinned hawks are small birds of prey, and don't make very big explosions.

Our juvenile hawk was lurking in the tree, waiting for his moment to dine. He was literally on the tail of either a house finch or house sparrow -- at the speeds they were flying it was impossible to tell -- and they veered between the houses, reappearing a second or two later in the opposite direction. Across our yard and just barely above trees across the property line they flew, the smaller bird darting and obviously terrified, but the hawk keeping up with precise determination. He dove, but missed, and the smaller bird flew rapidly away frantically chirping a warning while the hawk caught a small updraft and glided more leisurely in the opposite direction, ostensibly to find his next meal elsewhere.

In these few seconds of wild kingdom action, it was fascinating to observe the hawk's beautiful and acrobatic flight. Though he was unsuccessful in this attempt, his skills are obviously advancing from what they were earlier in the season. Our dear Spook is growing up.

Just one week left to vote in November's poll: How many species are on your life list?

High Speed Birding

Lately, illness and a hectic schedule have kept me from doing too much birding, other than what species can be spotted while whizzing along on the interstate. While it is exciting to see the birds, passing a hawk perched on an electric pole at 70 miles per hour doesn't afford much opportunity for identification. Nonetheless, it is fascinating to see such a range of birds of prey staking out sections of the highway -- clearly, carrion and road kill have become a valued and consistent part of their diet. Of course, drivers should always be aware of birds feeding at the roadside and be cautious not to injure any of the scavengers. Life is a highway, and we're all just along for the ride.

Size is Relative

Having been awed by the golden eagle last weekend, I was amused to see the sharp-shinned hawk near the backyard again this week. Just a few weeks ago, the sharp shinned hawk was an awesome, inspiring visitor who amazed by his sheer size, keen eye, and regal bearing. Upon spotting him struggling with some turbulent air I had to smile -- he looks so small now.

I was so startled by this observation that I was compelled to check my field guides for measurements, and what I found was astonishing. I've been fortunate enough to quite literally see the two ends of the size spectrum for birds of prey. With a seven foot wingspan, the golden eagle is one of the largest birds of prey in North America (only California condors and bald eagles can be larger), while the less than two foot wingspan of the sharp shinned hawk is the smallest of the accipiter family.

Both birds, however, share the confidence of being fit, agile predators who dominate their territories. While the smaller hawk is more likely to practice stealth to approach his next meal and the eagle more calmly surveys all in his path with bold assurance, both are stunning examples of magnificent birds that I feel fortunate to observe.

Don't forget to vote in the October poll: What feeder(s) do you use?

Life List - 43

What a weekend for birding this has been; I've added three new species to my life list. First, I took the time while grocery shopping to observe a flock of gulls in the parking lot, and while they were arguing over the scraps of some abandoned fast food, I noted their gray-blue legs, mottled necks, small patch of lower bill color, and wing spotting. Those details were enough to identify them as California Gulls in their winter plumage.

Today, as my husband and I took a leisurely walk along the Provo River, digital camera in hand, I was privileged to spot two additional species to add to my list. The first is the Steller's Jay, the western equivalent to the Blue Jay (which I am very familiar with, having spent my childhood being harassed by their calls just outside my bedroom window too early on weekend and summer mornings). The Steller's jay has a tall head crest, but where the blue jay has white markings, the Steller's jay has black ones. The bird is darker overall, though just as querulous as other jays, including the western scrub jays that are frequent backyard visitors. As I live in a relatively urban area, western scrub jays are much more apt to visit, while Steller's jays are more likely to remain in the mountains and canyons further from human interaction. Nonetheless, it was a treat to see them flitting among the pine trees, breaking nuts free and cracking them to eat. Unfortunately, because of the dense foliage and their hyperactive behavior, I was unable to capture a better photograph, but they are so distinctive that even a poor photo is easily identifiable.

The real treat, however, was the next new bird -- a Golden Eagle. This is one of the largest birds of prey in North America, and the solitary bird is a magnificent hunter. Readily identifiable by his huge size (roughly 30 inches tall with an 80 inch wingspan), his rich brown plumage, powerfully hooked bill and talons, and golden-tinted head and neck coloration, he is a regal and beautiful sight. We observed him for several minutes, first perched on a utility post where he was watching the river carefully, then later after he flew downstream, we were able to get even closer as he perched on a dead tree. Clearly at the top of the food chain, he was unconcerned with several people along the trail who crept closer to see him better, and he calmly continued watching the river for his next meal. He waited, occasionally itched, and once in awhile graced us with a condescending glare. We, of course, were thrilled.

It is amazingly rewarding to see such rich, varied avian life so close to home. While the golden eagle will not become a backyard visitor, that he is nearby illustrates the wonderful birding climate I live in. Any birder can easily discover the wider variety of birds beyond their backyard if they only take the time occasionally to enjoy a lovely walk in an unsullied area, keeping their eyes to the sky for new birds to see.

Dinner Visit

What a difference being in the right position with different camera settings can make. Our juvenile sharp shinned hawk has returned -- frequently -- for dinner visits, though with poor success from our menu of finches and sparrows. There is a tree just over our property line that he tends to perch in, moving to the same spot on the fence occasionally for a better view. Still, the smaller birds can spot his immature, unrefined approach from enough of a distance to seek shelter quickly, and he's left without a bite.

Twice today he's visited, ironically once at lunch and once at dinner, neither time to any avail. With a clearer picture, however, there is no doubt remaining that he is a sharp shinned hawk. The pale stripe over his eye is clearly visible, a trait that is lacking in both adult species as well as juvenile cooper's hawks. The thinness of his legs is also startlingly apparent. Whereas some birdwatchers would find his appearance unwelcome and unattractive, I find him noble and graceful. It's a delightful treat to have him so near, though I will refrain from putting meat in the feeders; the buffet I set for the smaller birds is undoubtedly enough to supply food for all visitors, even if not in the way intended.

If you have trouble identifying your own hawks between these two species, I highly recommend the accipiter identification table and other resources from Project Feederwatch. Happy hawking!

Hawk Revealed

Thanks to generous assistance both from CapeCodAlan and now Bill Fenimore, a well-respected Utah birder and owner of the Wild Bird store in Layton, my accipiter visitor has been throughly identified as a sharp shinned hawk. Some tidbits about this graceful bird of prey:

• They feed by catching other birds on the wing.
• They have quite thin legs, sometimes described as "pencil thin."
• While they do migrate in other states, they are year-round residents in Utah.
• They are the smallest of the accipiter family.
• Their rounded wings and long tail make them extremely agile.

I hope to see him again soon, now that I know well what details to check, and with camera in hand to capture his poise and beauty. He's a rare treat, all the better for familiarity.

Who's the Hawk?

I have recently been paid a pair of puzzling visits by an as-yet-unknown hawk. He looks like he could be either a sharp shinned or a Cooper's hawk, but the two are so similar that identification is gravely challenging (see this lovely comparison by Project Feederwatch). At first glance he bears characteristics similar to both hawks, and it's maddening trying to ascertain which he really is. The only positive characteristic I can note is age; he has lighter colored, nearly yellow eyes, which according to CapeCodAlan of ebirdseed.com, indicates the bird is a juvenile.

His behavior also indicates inexperience. Twice in the past two weeks he has arrived with great fanfare at our backyard feeders, but neither time has he been successful in securing a meal. The first time he landed near the hopper feeder and waited there for a minute or two, stretching his wings and looking about as if wondering where the buffet had disappeared to. The second time, just this past weekend, I went to our patio doors to look out at the yard and he was perched on the platform feeder we keep just a few inches from the house. He stayed there for a period, eyeing me with caution but not concern.

Unfortunately, I have no superb pictures by which to determine a clear identification. I am wondering if indeed this is the same bird -- I believe so, but the first to visit may have been larger. CapeCodAlan believes he may be a sharp shinned hawk, and any fellow birders who have leads as to his identity are welcome to chime in; I'd love to know for certain who is preying in the backyard.

Which brings up the question of welcome. To some backyard birders, these birds of prey are most unwelcome -- our neighbors would prefer to chase him away when he frightens the smaller species. To me, however, it is a rare treat and privilege to have this unusual visitor grace my yard. And if, in doing so, smaller birds fall victim to his dives, then that too is a type of backyard birdfeeding. Perhaps not what I'd intended when refilling the seed feeders, but it is all part of the migration of life I'm happy to be a part of.