A Few of My Favorite Things

Arizona Sister. Photo by Steve Cary

‘Tis the Season! Black Friday notwithstanding, seasonal holiday gifts will soon be on the minds of most of us. If you are one of the many with a birder or bird lover in the family, gift buying for such a specialized interest might present a substantial challenge: trying to find something meaningful and affordable that the recipient doesn’t already own. Being of the bird-watching type myself, I’ve found a few “can’t live without” essentials that are now part of mountain of gear the HAS to live with me, just in case I might need it.

The most exciting new-to-me birding toy is iBird Explorer Pro. This nifty app for the iPhone/iPod touch is a field guide that references 891 species of birds found in North America. In addition to photographs, illustrations, range maps and habitats, it also includes songs and some calls for each species. Having access to the vocalizations is unbelievably helpful even for experienced birders when puzzling over a heard-only bird. The database is searchable in a variety of ways that help to narrow down choices for identification. At only $30.00, it is highly affordable and amazingly portable. I take it with me on all my surveys; however, being a responsible birder, I do not use it to try to call birds in for closer observation which often can disturb nesting birds that are responding to what they view as an intruder in their territory.

All that is affordable about iBird Explorer Pro is offset; however, by the need to also own an iPhone or and iPod. I opted for an iPod touch, with full video capacity, setting me back about $225. Still, I think the investment is well worth the cost.

Most birders have a fascination with all things in nature, particularly things with wings, namely bats, butterflies, dragonflies and damselflies. Steve Cary, lead naturalist for New Mexico State Parks, has spent 18 years gathering photographs and life history information for his new book, “Butterfly Landscapes of New Mexico”. This positively gorgeous book is a readable, illustrated guide, not only to the butterflies, but also to the specific landscapes that support them throughout the state. Did you know that New Mexico has one of the highest number of butterfly species among the states because of its diverse habitats? Naturalists have identified 103 species of butterflies and skippers in the Los Alamos area, and over 150 in the Jemez Mountains. At only $18.45 (www.amazon.com), no home should be without this book.

Digiscoping, a relatively new word in the vocabulary of this birder, has become the latest rage among photography buffs. Simply stated, it means placing your digital camera up to a spotting scope to magnify your image 40-60 times in order to photograph birds or other animals that are too distant to otherwise capture in image. At prices ranging from $49.99 and up (www.eagleoptics.com), I found the Vortex Universal 28-45mm Small Digital Camera Adapter to be the entry level adaptor for securely attaching a camera to your spotting scope.
This camera adapter will attach most 3-4x optical zoom digital cameras to a wide variety of spotting scopes and fits on spotting scope eyepieces with an outside diameter of 28mm to 45mm

Another treat in the wildlife watching department are the motion detection cameras that can be set up near a feeder or water source that are triggered by the animals that visit, a great way to observe natural behaviors of wild animals. I know of one such camera that captured a whole flock of Pinyon Jays taking a bath, a badger that stopped for a drink, and a pair of foxes in addition to countless songbirds. I found the 5.0 Megapixel Digital Motion-detection Camera for $99.95 (www.shop.nationalgeographic.com). Triggered by heat and movement, these simplified all-weather cameras take multiple images to capture backyard wildlife action. This particular camera will run for 21 days of continuous operation on one set of batteries. There also are many other brands of motion detection cameras; however this is the least expensive that I found.

For the young birder in the family, one of the best books to come along is “Raptor! A kid’s guide to birds of prey”, by Christyna M. and Rene Laubauch and Charles W.G. Smith. This beautiful book is among the best raptor guides for young and old alike. The richly illustrated digest covers topics ranging from anatomy, behavior and habitat -- to binoculars, migration, bird watching and simple ecology. The text is so concise and balanced that the book will be as fascinating to adults as it is to younger audiences. It is a must for the family library, and a treasure trove for visual learners. ($10.17 at www.amazon.com)

With the wide array of birding equipment, books and other specialty items, the most difficult part of writing this annual installment of my column is deciding just which items to include. In my next column, we’ll look at a few of the favorite things of wild birds. I am positively itching to begin conducting some experiments to see what the birds at my place prefer!

Old Cottontop

Scaled Quail. Photo by David Powell.

I knew that I should be driving slowly on the back roads of P-J land, shorthand for pinyon-juniper, because of the myriad of small animals that just might decide to cross the road at the exact same time as my vehicle arrived. It’s happened to me before, even though I try my best to be alert to animals that have evolved over millions of years without the hazards wrought by high speed vehicles that have only been around for about 100. Once, a little House Wren inadvertently committed suicide by flying right into the side of my car. Another time, a Lesser Goldfinch crossed the road in front of my car, right at hood height. I picked tiny little, bright yellow feathers from my air filter after that, all that remained of a formerly vibrant songbird. Then, at night there are the rabbits! They sit quietly, nearly invisible, but as a car approaches, they run, first off the road and then right back onto the road, sometimes right beneath the wheels.

But, there is one group of birds that I find particularly endearing, quail, and they also tend to hang out near back country roads. In New Mexico, the two most common species are the Scaled Quail and the Gambel’s Quail. Often, I’ll catch a glimpse of one individual, generally standing beneath the shade of a low shrub. When I see that one bird, I just KNOW to drive slow, because it is NEVER just one bird. Spooked by the car, the observed bird waits until I am almost upon it and then dashes across the road, followed by one, then another, and finally a whole covey of them, sometimes up to fifty strong.
Gambel’s Quail are the ones with the curly top knot, most common in the southern part of New Mexico. In our neck of the woods, we more often find their cousins, the Scaled Quail, also called Cottontop, so named for the distinctive white top-knot on its crest. They usually run from predators rather than fly, which is precisely why they are at greater risk of car strikes.
Because Scaled Quail are usually seen running or flying away, folks often don’t get a chance to give them a good, once-over viewing, and to marvel at their buffy breast feathers, spectacularly edged with dark brown, giving them a lovely scalloped look. It’s one of those cases where nature achieved subtle perfection in design, since the scalies actually do blend in with their surroundings despite their elaborate plumage.

Common in the lower elevations of New Mexico, they call to each other as they wander through brushy arroyos, cactus flats, sagebrush and pinyon-juniper woodland. They charming call, “pay-cos, pay-cos,” has become synonymous with the arid lands which they call home. Here, they wander along, picking up insects, seeds, and berries as they go, opportunistically foraging for whatever foods are available. They are often found around ranches, farms, and even on the outskirts of urban centers. They readily come to seed placed on the ground or in platform feeders positioned low to the ground, and have become a familiar and much loved back yard bird. However, their nests are extremely well hidden, often in dense, shaded vegetation, under brush piles, old machinery, and along fields, and very difficult to detect.

Scaled and Gambel’s Quail populations cycle through “booms and busts” generally associated with drought years where low rainfall results in a lack of succulent foods. During these times, quail suffer widespread reproductive failure. Succulent vegetation is especially important to quail during drought periods, as it is to other desert dwellers that must obtain their fluids from moisture in the plants they consume rather than water.

Scaled Quail are a high priority species for many North American bird conservation initiatives due to long-term population declines. Although quail are game birds, hunting does not appear to be a factor in their decline. However, like many other upland game birds of the desert Southwest, they are particularly vulnerable to overgrazing by livestock, which has severely reduced feeding, nesting, and roosting cover in many areas.

So, the next time you are meandering along a back country road, remember to give a bird a brake. If you take the time to stop, look, and listen, you just might be in for an eye-popping extravaganza, especially during the spring and summer when Mom and Dad Quail have little ones. They look like cotton balls on short, little legs as they race along behind their parents. Wait until the whole covey passes and then wait a tad longer. There’s often a straggler racing to catch up.

Meet the Butcherbird: Loggerhead Shrike

Loggerhead Shrike. Photo by Doug Brown.

Far from home, along the Texas Gulf Coast, the birding had been exceptional for our small group of wanderers. We’d already covered many of the noted birding destinations such as High Island and Bolivar Flats, and now were looking for wetland obligate species at Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge northeast of Houston.

Initially, I thought that the gray bird with the white wing patches might be a Northern Mockingbird, but its flight was direct, nothing like the undulating, almost flirtatious flight pattern of the mockingbird. Indeed, the Loggerhead Shrike seemed to be a bird on a mission, with a purpose for alighting on the bare branch of a tree only about 30 feet distant. It just sat without moving though, and our birding group soon lost interest. We turned our attention to the numerous wetland birds, remarking on the Least Bittern lurking in the vegetation and the abundant Northern Rough-winged Swallows gracefully swooping over the open water, snaring aerial insects.

Suddenly, a piercing shriek broke the otherwise idyllic sounds of nature. As one, our heads turned toward the sound, only to witness two birds, shrike and swallow, locked in mortal combat. It seemed improbable that the shrike even would have tried to capture the swallow, so buoyant and aerially superior in flight, but it did just that. As we watched with mixed emotions, the shrike first pinned the hapless swallow to the ground, biting its neck, and then flew off out of sight with the victim firmly clamped in its bill.

Loggerhead Shrikes are medium- sized songbirds with bird of prey personalities. At first glance, the shrike hardly appears to be a predator, but it regularly preys on insects, lizards, mice, and birds, hence the common name, “Butcherbird”. Its head is large in proportion to the rest of its body, hence the name “Loggerhead”, which also means blockhead. Not a kind moniker for the little fellow trying to make a living on larger than average-sized prey for songbirds. Although it is technically classified as a member of the order, Passeriformes, to which all songbirds belong, its behavior mimics that of its larger, distantly related cousins, raptors.

Like a raptor, the shrike scans for food from perches. It kills by biting prey in back of neck, cutting the spinal cord. Because it lacks the strong feet and talons of a raptor necessary to hold down and tear its food, it uses thorns and barbed wire to hold large prey while it rips it up, and may wedge prey into a fork in a branch for the same purpose. In some cases, an individual will store, or cache, several carcasses for later consumption and, occasionally a cache cactus or barbed wire fence might be festooned with bodies. Like a raptor, it has a strongly hooked bill for gripping flesh. And, like a falcon it has a strong notch or "tooth" near the bill tip that helps sever the spinal cord of its prey.

Although these attributes sound like a recipe for success, the outlook for the total population is not rosy. Significant declines in this once abundant species have been documented across almost the entire United States since at least the 1970s. Scientific estimates place the total population somewhere between 2.9 and 4 million birds, down from about 10 million birds 40 years ago. This represents a population decline ranging between 60-70%.

In New Mexico, Loggerhead Shrike frequents open pinyon/juniper woodland and deciduous forest. Because they require large territories to adequately support themselves and their offspring (up to 7 per clutch), densities are low, and the bird might be difficult to locate. Keep an eye out on those mockingbirds that also have large white wing patches on their gray bodies. Perhaps you will be lucky and find one with a distinctive black face mask – that would be a Loggerhead Shrike.

A Tale of Two Kestrels

Female American Kestrel. Photo by Keith Bauer.

Male American Kestrel. Photo by Doug Brown.

They’ve been called ‘sparrowhawk’ for their habit of preying on songbirds, but in actuality, insects, small lizards and mice are more common fare for North America’s smallest falcon, the American Kestrel. About the size of a robin, the kestrel is four ounces of power-packed muscle, sinew, and determination, trademarks of the little guy, the one who flies harder and fights tougher.

I once watched a male kestrel take on a female Cooper’s Hawk that had intruded into his territory. The Cooper’s Hawk is a bird-eating specialist and no slouch in the flight department, regularly capturing and killing birds as large as pigeons and even pheasants. It also weighs about four times as much as a male kestrel. The little guy’s only advantage was the speed and agility common to all falcons. I heard his battle cry, “killy, killy, killy” long before I saw anything. Within a few seconds, a harried looking coop flapped furiously away from the white cliffs where the kestrel pair were nesting with the little guy in hot pursuit. He would rise above the coop, and then plummet down to attack her back, over and over. In one instance, she turned just as he reached her, rolling onto her back and presenting those dangerous feet right in his face. In that same instant, I knew that he was a goner and that his mate would not be able to rear their clutch of young alone. But, pluck and perseverance served him well, and I watched them fly off together into the distance with the smaller figure keeping up a relentless attack, dive-bombing her repeatedly as they flew out of sight. A few minutes later, he returned victorious, circled the cliff, and took up his position above the nest cavity near the top of the cliff where he could continue his daily patrol, keeping all intruders away from his family.

Kestrels build their nests in cavities, ranging from tree cavities to holes in cliff faces to cracks in the eaves of buildings. A couple of years ago, a pair successfully reared four young in the cavity of an expansion joint of interstate 40 where it crossed the Rio Grande in Albuquerque. The cavity ensures that the female and young are well protected from the elements and other predators. It also makes monitoring nest success a challenge because the young are not visible until after they emerge. Within the first few days after the young falcons leave the nest, they are flightless. There isn’t enough space in the cavity for them to stretch their wings and exercise their flight muscles. However, their lungs and voices are fully developed and it is a simple matter to spot the youngsters loudly begging, killying, and calling from their various perches. If you keep a watch on a falcon family, you’ll notice that the babes have very short tails, perhaps an adaptation for the cramped quarters of their nursery. Within a few days, however, the young falcons master flight and the entire family leaves the area.

Like all falcons, kestrels have black eyes, and are built for speed with long, pointed wings. However, the similarity with their larger cousins, the merlin, peregrine falcon, and prairie falcon, ends there. The kestrel is a predator but, as a small bird, it is also prey. They have two spots on the back of their head, called false eye spots. The purpose of these spots is to confuse a predator that might attack from the rear into thinking that it is tackling the kestrel head on, and give the falcon a better chance to escape. Kestrels also have two black vertical stripes on their heads, one directly below the eye, and the other slightly farther back. The purpose of the dark mark, called a malar stripe, is to reduce glare from the sun, much like that of football players that paint a black stripe below their eyes.

Males and females have different plumages, and can be easily identified. Females have a back and tail with horizontal brown and black bars with a vertically streaked breast. The more colorful males, have handsome bluish gray wings, a clear buffy breast, and a striking rufous tail with a single black bar at the end.

In fact, I once heard a story from one of our volunteers, a young birder named Lindsey Porter. Because Lindsey and her family are such strong supporters of Hawks Aloft, we asked her to do the honor of giving our newest educational bird, a male American Kestrel, his name. She thought about it for several days before deciding. She told me that when she was learning about raptors, a man told her that she could always tell the boy kestrels from the girl kestrels because every day when the boys got up, they put on their blue Superman cape! We call Lindsey’s kestrel, Clark Kent.

Kestrels adapt well to human activities and often live near businesses and homes in both urban and rural areas. Many people welcome the plucky little birds with the big attitude, not just because they are entertaining, but because they help to reduce rodents and insects. You, too, might be able to attract a kestrel family to your property, particularly if you live near open fields with an abundance of food. Kestrels are known to adapt well to artificial nest boxes. You can find several different nest box plans on the World Wide Web as well as pre-made boxes ready to install in your backyard.

Fastest Bird in the World: Peregrine Falcon

Adult Peregrine Falcon in Flight. Photo by Doug Brown.

Fact or Fiction? Various accounts report top speeds ranging between 100 and 250 miles per hour for the Peregrine Falcon. Most, however, agree that in a stoop (when the bird is diving on prey) that it is indeed the fastest on our planet. Recent technology enabled a team of scientists, lead by falconer and researcher, Ken Franklin, to attach a speed monitor similar to those used in sky diving to his falconry bird, Frightful. National Geographic filmed her remarkable descent as Frightful adjusted her body’s position to become as streamlined as possible once the lure (a leather pouch designed to look like a bird) was released. Although some might argue that since the bird was lifted aloft via aircraft, possibly skewing the results, Frightful reached a top speed of 242 miles per hour while diving on a lure, impressive in the extreme.

Extreme might be one of the adjectives that best describes this remarkable species. Throughout history, humans have been held spellbound by the aerial acrobatics of the peregrine and other large falcons. Few other North American species have been as highly regarded and romanticized in the second half of the 20th century. The peregrine is among the most studied of all wild birds, with over 2,000 scientific publications. The falcon has been eulogized in numerous books and poems, and appears in a wide variety of art dating back several centuries. Its daredevil acrobatics undoubtedly inspired the sport of falconry, where participants may witness these remarkable flights close at hand. During the heyday of falconry in the Middle Ages, the peregrine was the most prized of hunting hawks and reserved for the pleasure of the aristocracy. Severe penalties were incurred for harming a wild falcon or robbing her eyrie (nest).

Revered to reviled: After the introduction of firearms, and conversion of land to agriculture, the sport of falconry declined, and peregrines came to be regarded as vermin, relentlessly persecuted by gamekeepers, hunters, egg-collectors, skin collectors, pigeon fanciers, and others. From the 18th century until the mid 1900s, this attitude persisted and humans destroyed many thousands of peregrines, eggs, and young worldwide. It should be noted that this attitude extended to all raptor species, not just falcons. Yet, falcon populations were remarkably resilient to hunting pressure. One estimate reported a decline of only 10-18% in occupied territories by the 1930s and it was impossible to determine the if they were permanently deserted.

By World War II, the peregrine was viewed as a menace to the all important carrier pigeons, and the British Air Ministry undertook a campaign to eradicate the falcons in the south of England. The control measures resulted in the systematic destruction of 100 or more eyries and shooting about 600 falcons each year. However, within 10 years after the persecution ended, falcon pairs were again present at 80% of those eyries. However, a far greater threat to its survival loomed on the horizon: pesticides.

Vanished: In the mid 1960s, researchers and falconers realized that Peregrine Falcon populations were in deep trouble in North America. A population crash had been occurring for the past 10-15 years, on a parallel with declines of the species in Europe. Except for one eyrie that continued to be occupied until the 1980s, peregrines had vanished east of the Mississippi River. They probably also disappeared from most eyries in the Rocky Mountains at about the same time, although it was not until the 1970s that adequate surveys took place and verified the suspicions of scientists. By 1980, no active eyries could be found in Idaho, Montana, or Wyoming. Suddenly, it seemed as if only 15-20% of the former total population in the lower 48 United States survived.
DDT (dichloro-diphenyl-trichloroethane) was considered to be a safe and effective insecticide in the 1940s and 1950s. It was used as an agricultural insecticide, and to combat lice and mosquitos responsible for the spread of human diseases such as typhus, and malaria. There were no known significant adverse effects to either animal or human health, that is, until Peregrine Falcon populations, along with other birds such as the Bald Eagle and Osprey crashed.
When DDT use was widespread, daily doses of the chemical accumulated in the fatty tissue of the peregrine. The stored chemicals acted to "block" the movement of calcium during eggshell formation causing the shells to be "thin." Peregrine falcon eggs broke and embryos died at an alarming rate. The peregrine became the cause célèbre for the fledgling environmental movement, lead by the publication of Rachel Carson’s landmark book, Silent Spring.

By 1970, the peregrine was federally protected in the United States, and the chemical culprits were banned in North America by 1972. Peregrines were have since made a strong recovery, thanks in large part to extensive captive breeding and release programs implemented by The Peregrine Fund of Boise, Idaho. They were officially de-listed on August 20, 1999, although they remain a state-listed species in New Mexico.

Lessons learned from the plight of the peregrine have worked their way into science curriculums throughout the U.S. Most third and fourth grade students understand what the words “endangered” and “extinct” mean. We are extremely fortunate that falcon watching of this charismatic bird alerted the world to a problem in time for there to be a resolution. Will we be as lucky in the future?

Anatomy of a Rescue

Juvenile Peregrine Falcon (Falco peregrinus). Photo by Doug Brown

The Peregrine Falcon, a highly visible and charismatic species, was proverbial “Canary in a Coal Mine” that alerted us to the dangers of pesticides. Its precipitous decline, discovered in the 1960s, lead to worldwide concern among ornithologists, researchers, and falconers, who convened conferences to assess the situation and implement plans to prevent the falcon from disappearing altogether. Efforts to breed and release falcons began in late 1960s by several different organizations, including the Peregrine Fund, which was founded at Cornell University in 1970 and lead by ornithology professor, Tom Cade.

The P Fund, as it is often referred to now, began breeding falcons in captivity for release to the wild in an attempt to prevent further declines. They successfully bred and released more than 4,000 falcons from 1974 to 1998, resulting in a minimum of 700 re-established breeding territories in North America. The non-profit organization is currently based at the World Center for Birds of Prey in Boise, Idaho.

Peregrines, like other falcons, do not build nests but use naturally occurring cavities (scrapes) on cliff edges, often near water, where the female (referred to as ‘falcon’) lays her eggs on sand or gravel. Generally, these nest sites, called eyries, have an expansive view of the surrounding habitat from which the female can watch for intruders and the male (tiercel) can scan for prey. Peregrines prey almost entirely on birds in New Mexico, including doves, swifts, flickers, jays, meadowlarks, and others. At one eyrie, the remains of 62 bird species were identified. I’ve also watched them hunt for bats emerging from a cave at dusk, and research shows that they are opportunistic, taking other animals on occasion. They can take birds up to the size of ducks and pheasants, hence the nickname, Duck Hawk.

It’s the unique hunting style of the peregrine that has earned the admiration and adoration of countless numbers of falcon fanatics worldwide for, indeed, this falcon has circumpolar distribution, except for Antarctica. The falcon climbs high into the sky, watching for aerial prey below with eyesight that is 8-10 times the distance and acuity of the human eye. Once prey is sighted, the bird tucks its body into the celebrated stoop at speeds of 200 miles per hour or more, and dives on often unsuspecting prey. At the last moment, the falcon swings her balled feet forward and strikes the victim, knocking it unconscious. The falcon then swoops to pick up the prey, and using her tomial tooth (an extra notch on the underside of the upper bill unique to falcons), breaks the prey’s neck. The falcon then descends to the ground with the prey to eat.

Because the peregrine had been extirpated (absent) east of the Mississippi River, but was still present in the West, initial reintroduction efforts focused on this region. Early release sites were located on bridges over rivers that simulated natural falcon habitat and also allowed easy human access, often near major metropolitan areas. The birds took well to these releases and a small population began to thrive. However, although humans thought that the bridges might be an ideal habitat, the peregrines had other ideas about preferred nesting sites. The falcons began to move into cities where they nested on ledges of skyscrapers, and dined on the ubiquitous urban avifauna, notably the Rock Pigeon. It seemed that, in the falcon’s eyes, the city had everything that they needed: suitable eyries and an unlimited food supply.

An additional benefit accrued to the peregrines that took up residence in urban centers, an adoring public. As people became aware of the plight of the peregrine and began to notice the rare falcons nesting outside their high rise, high rent offices, they became falcon watchers and peregrine protectors.

Today, the everyday activities of countless pairs of urban nesting peregrines are chronicled via webcams and falcon watches on the web and in local newspapers. My web search for peregrine falcon news results turned up 119 stories less than 30 days old. This includes last week’s exploits of “Early Bird” a 37-day-old peregrine falcon that leapt from his eyrie on the 12th floor of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in Salt Lake City. Although the first flight went well, the second did not. He crashed into a flower bed and returned to his nest box by volunteers who keep an eye on the falcons. The volunteers, known as the Peregrine Falcon Watchpost Team, will be on hand from dawn to dusk for roughly the next 10 days in case "Early Bird" or his sibling decides to try again.

Closer to home, peregrines have been observed in downtown Albuquerque although no nesting has been known to occur. Certainly, the falcons are finding ideal hunting conditions in our southwestern city, complete with an abundant pigeon population. One falcon watcher called to excitedly share the intimate details of the recent kill outside her high rise office window.
Not all peregrines have migrated to urban centers, and New Mexico still has a population that eschews city life for the solitude of wilder country. However, getting to see one in the back country is uncommon, even in the appropriate habitat. They remain a state listed threatened species by the New Mexico Department of Game and Fish.
The plight of the peregrine was the impetus for increased research, monitoring and conservation of all bird species. After their success in reintroducing peregrines, the P Fund pioneered propagation and release techniques for numerous species worldwide. Other species released to restore wild populations include the Aplomado Falcon, Bald Eagle, Bat Falcon, California Condor, Harpy Eagle, Madagascar Fish Eagle, Mauritius Kestrel, Orange-breasted Falcon, and Prairie Falcon. However, bringing a species back from the brink of extinction is the least desirable and most expensive way to save a species. The annual costs for recovery of the Peregrine Falcon were placed at more than $5.4 million in the 1990s. Thus, the shared goal of “keeping common species common” is the mantra that drives most conservation efforts today.

Babes in the Woods

Northern Mockingbird. Photo by Doug Brown

Just another day in field, this time near the end of the nesting season. My expectations were low, particularly because this area had been mechanically cleared, leaving either an open, weedy field, or a cottonwood forest mostly devoid of understory vegetation. That, combined with the weariness that results from too many very early mornings, and the impending July heat and humidity, left me dreading the next three hours it would take to complete the survey. I trudged out to the start point, dutifully arriving before sunrise and, looking to the east, visually confirmed that this would be yet another futile exercise in negative data collection.

But, as I slowly traversed the transect line, my ears thrilled to the calls of birds that make a living on the edge: forest edge, meadow edge, and the interface that connects them. The first surprise was the call of a bird I’d never before heard at this site, a Northern Mockingbird. And, it sounded none too pleased. Scanning with my binoculars, I found the bird with a large bug firmly clamped in its bill calling for its fledgling. The youngster quickly responded, getting a bit of breakfast, and then diving into the shrubs nearby. Suddenly, Mom (or Pop) took offense at the presence of another bird, shrieking a warning and taking chase. Each time the hapless intruder tried to land, the mockingbird dove on it, shrieking a warning. They moved, snag to snag, tree to shrub, as Mom harassed the other, as yet unidentifiable, bird until it moved beyond the invisible line that formed the mockingbird’s territory, the area it had claimed for its own family.

My curiosity aroused by the scuffle, I scanned for the loser of the battle. It was an American Kestrel, the smallest North American falcon and normally not a threat to a mockingbird which is almost the same size. However, this falcon also was a fledgling, one of three young that the kestrel parents had produced. Although certainly no threat to the mockingbirds, the little falcon was getting a lesson in territory boundaries, not to be crossed with impunity. Each time the little falcon landed, the mockingbird stooped and the falcon ducked, before taking off for a safer perch. Soon it was joined by its siblings and the three nosily flew from tree to tree, practicing takeoffs, turns, dives, and precarious landings. Carefree, with no worries, but with new knowledge of the invisible territory fence to the south, these kestrels were unaware of all other dangers, and secure in their assumption that food would be forthcoming via their parents indefinitely.

Before I moved beyond the kestrel family, however, Mom coyote took exception to my presence in her territory. She howled; she barked; she warned. Now, I had intruded beyond her invisible territory line, and was a potential threat to her babies, who also were out of their den and beginning to explore their new world. She stayed with me, always out of sight behind a shrub, incessantly barking. Mentally, I tried to let her know that I bore her family no ill will and that I would soon pass by. My silent message, “Please stop! I mean you no harm, and I can’t hear any bird calls with all this racket.” It did no good. She kept up her noisy vigil until I passed beyond the boundary line on the other side of the territory.

Moving into the woods, my first sight was of Dad Cooper’s Hawk carrying prey toward the nest, pursued by three noisy, begging fledglings. Although I couldn’t see the nest antics as the youngsters squabbled for food, it was easy to envision the action. One baby hawk secured the prize while the other two loudly expressed their displeasure, moving to nearby perches and resuming their endless whiny, begging calls. At this time in their lives, their food demands are so great that it takes the combined efforts of both parents to hunt for enough prey to satisfy their offspring. (Cooper’s Hawks are primarily bird-eating hawks and it takes an average of 67 robin-sized birds to successfully rear a single young). Eventually, the din subsided as the hawk babies turned their attention to exploring their new, forested world, and I resumed counting birds.

As I began to near the forest edge, however, a fierce ‘killy-killying’ broke through the otherwise peaceful reverie of compatible bird calls. Killy! Killy! KILLY! Clearly, the kestrel family was on the attack, and based on the decibel levels, it was a substantial effort to eject a perceived threat. It wasn’t until I cleared the forest edge that I was able to see the source of their distress, a fledgling Cooper’s Hawk that had dared to fly beyond its forest territory and had perched in a branch on the edge of the opening. Coops are mortal enemies of kestrels who are just about the right size for prey. However, baby Coop had no idea yet, that he/she would ever had to hunt for food. He also was unaware that .
his territory ended at the edge of the forest. There the little hawk sat, with the supreme confidence of a toddler, completely exposed in a foreign land. Clearly, he had a few lessons left to learn.

Mortality rates in the avian world run high. About 7 of every 10 youngsters do not survive to one year. Although they are biologically equipped with survival tools, hunting, flight, and a healthy fear of humans are learned skills. As I watch the young of the year bumble along, the avian equivalent of toddlers-on-the-loose, I am amazed that any of them survive. The ones that do, learn their lessons quickly for, in the wild, a single mistake might be the last one they ever make.