Among the Grasses: Western Meadowlark

Western Meadowlark. Image by Doug Brown

The melodious notes that rang out over the shrubs and grasses of the lower Jemez Valley signaled the territory of a certain grassland obligate species, the Western Meadowlark, one of our most popular birds. Six states list the Western Meadowlark as their state bird. Their song is almost certainly familiar, among the most beautiful and complex of North American birds, although the meadowlark often remains unseen as he sings from his exposed perch on a low shrub. It is one of our most abundant and widely distributed grassland birds, inhabiting open country from natural and planted grasslands of the Northern Great Plains to tidal flats along the Pacific Ocean, and from sea level to mountain meadows.

When viewed from the back, his and her colors are cryptic, designed to blend in with their desert, grassland or shrubland backdrop. But, when viewed from the front, this gifted songster can be easily recognized by the bright yellow breast with the V-shaped black bib. Despite the fact that its appearance is distinctively yellow and brown, it is most closely related to the blackbird family that includes Red-winged Blackbird, grackles, and orioles. It also is closely related to the Eastern Meadowlark, remarkably similar in appearance but with a very different song, equally captivating despite its more simple tune.

It would seem logical that two species that diverged at some point in their evolution due to differing habitats, would evolve different feather coloration, but they are nearly impossible to tell apart. Over time, their respective songs have changed greatly. It is by listening that one most oven can tell them apart. Today, both meadowlarks can be found in New Mexico, sometimes in overlapping areas. So, they look alike but sing a different tune. Might one be attracted to the other? Studies have shown that the two species hybridize only very rarely, and then only at the edge of the range where few mates are available. Captive breeding experiments found that hybrid meadowlarks were fertile, but produced few eggs that hatched. Obviously, their sense of self, as well as nature, protects the species from becoming hopelessly intermingled.

The nest of the Western Meadowlark usually is partially covered by a grass roof, but nests vary from completely open to a complete roof and an entrance tunnel several feet long. When Western and Eastern Meadowlarks nest in the same area, the Western Meadowlark male will defend his territory against all male meadowlarks of either species. He usually has two mates at the same time and they do all the incubation and brooding, and most of the feeding of the young. Although the overall population of Western Meadowlark continues to remain high, long-term studies have shown an ongoing decline (1966-2006). For meadowlarks that nest in cultivated fields, haying, or tilling to control weeds, destroys all young unable to fly and a high number of incubating females. Conversion of cultivated fields to planted grassland benefits the species, but may not be possible given the demands of our ever-expanding population. Delaying the use of heavy equipment until young have fledged would certainly improve nest success. This; however, is unlikely to be a factor in the largely uncultivated region of western New Mexico. Grazing appears to have little impact on populations of Western Meadowlark.

Like many species of birds, solid information about the decline in populations of the meadowlark is lacking and more research is needed. Like a juggler with too many objects afloat, there are simply not enough financial resources to study every animal to the fullest extent possible to determine the best management practices for that species. The threats that challenge meadowlark populations are common to, not only the many grassland birds in decline, but other wildlife of the Great Plains grasslands. Finding a solution will not be easy among the many interests that compete for precious land use. Most often, when humans and wildlife compete, it is the animals that suffer. Let’s hope that the crystal clear notes in the hauntingly melodious song of the meadowlark does not become only a distant memory, a story to be told to our great grandchildren.

Tale of Two Families

Western Kingbird. Photo by David Powell

Watching ‘my’ backyards birds is something less than an obsession, but still an important part of each day. I’ve envied friends who have been able to attract Barn Swallows to nest under their porches. A brilliantly colored swallow once visited my Rio Rancho porch in the spring but, obviously, found it lacking. I put up a nest platform on the side of my house hoping for a roadrunner to no avail. Three nest boxes hang from trees in my yard in hopes of attracting a flycatcher, chickadee or another cavity nesting species, but none of those has decided to call my yard home. Only the lowly House Sparrow has taken advantage of my generosity, building messy nests and defending them from all others.

So, it was with great joy that I discovered a Western Kingbird that had taken up residence in the dying ash tree in the front yard three years ago. That first year, while the tree still held a bounty of dark green leaves, it wasn’t until four lemon yellow fluffballs were noisily perched atop a high branch begging for insect meals delivered by their harried parents that I discovered the nest. They returned again the following year, possibly not the same adults, but choosing the same tree and successfully rearing three fledged young.

This year, I was waiting for them, listening for the bubbly that would announce their return from parts south. Arriving right on schedule, I was able to watch the nest building process as the tree yielded better views. Each year there are fewer leaves as the tree dies slowly due to an earlier infestation of ash borers. Fluffy best describes the messy cup built with grasses, twigs, and what appears to be cotton. I would watch one parent stand guard atop the highest branch, chipping, sallying forth to collect insects and deliver them into the tree. I expected young ones to emerge any day and checked the nest from a distance several times each day. Although I couldn’t see anything in the nest, the presence of vigilant parents indicated the presence of life in the nest.

Adult Cooper's Hawk. Photo by David Powell

Four years ago, a large stick nest appeared in one of the majestic cottonwoods in the park near my home. It held a pair of Cooper’s Hawks that successfully raised two young that year. It became part of my regular walk just so I could check on its progress, watching the young grow and eventually fledge. When the young ones showed up in my back yard, fumbling as they tested their hunting skills, I thrilled to the real life nature show although the teenaged birds never actually caught anything. The parents; however, with stealth hunting prowess, wreaked havoc on the birds that came to feed at Restaurant Garber. The second year, the Cooper’s Hawks lost their nest to the ferocious spring winds. I found it on the ground along with broken eggshells. Last year, three babies grew up in that tree.

The dogs love our evening walk in the park, but don’t seem to understand why it is that we must rest on the bench of the picnic table where they must sit and be quiet. Three young hawks have been growing fast. Only the youngest chick still sits in the nest and it should be out any day. Others watch the nest too and there is often a small crowd with raised binoculars, all of whom worry about the fate of this family. We have become casual friends that swap stories, bonded by a certain cottonwood that holds precious cargo.

As we rounded the corner two nights ago on our way home, an adult Cooper’s Hawk sailed low across the street in front of me, only two houses north of my home. It was close enough for me to see the limp body of a bird clutched in its talons that was undoubtedly dinner for its chicks. It was; however the bubbling call of a mobbing parent that really got my attention, a frantic Western Kingbird unable to defend its young from a feathered predator – MY kingbird. It’s quiet now in the old ash tree. The kingbird parents bubble occasionally but haven’t delivered insects to the nest, at least none that I have observed now that nest watching has become ever more of an obsession.

At the large nest in the cottonwood, three other babies will live, at least for a while longer. For raptors as for the kingbirds, mortality is high. Only 1 in 4 will survive to adulthood, victims of poorly learned hunting skills, too much confidence in humans, collisions with vehicles or windows, or other accidents.

One of the most common calls we receive at Hawks Aloft is from someone who wants to have a predatory Cooper’s Hawk or Great Horned Owl removed from their property because the bird is preying on ‘their’ backyard birds. It doesn’t work that way in nature. When we create an ideal environment and stock it with food daily we attract not only the animals we desire, but those that feed higher on the food chain. If a predator is removed from this environment, one of two things will happen: there will be a population explosion that might lead to disease, or another predator will claim the territory as its own.

At my house, after two days of intensive kingbird watching, it was with sadness that I had given up on this year’s nest. This article was written and ready to send off. When I went out to move the garden hose a few minutes ago, there she was, a bright yellow female pumping insects into the still invisible chicks in the nest! All along, I had been watching the wrong nest! The active nest was snuggled into the very center of the tree in an area still vibrant with vegetation. I wonder if anything will get done in the coming days as I wait for nature to unfold.

The Wild, Weird and Wonderful: 2009 Review of the World of Birds

Great Horned Owl. Photo by Doug Brown.

‘Tis the season to reflect on things past and to make resolutions for the New Year. I’ve never been one to make a lengthy list of goals that likely would not be kept, particularly if it had to do with weight reduction, exercise, or similar lofty plans. Not that controlling one’s girth or indulging in more exercise isn’t important, but I already get more exercise than most of my friends, largely due the hundreds of bird surveys I conduct each year. And, the girth thing becomes ever so tiresome as we age, eating progressively smaller portions and eliminating one favorite, cholesterol laden food after another. Many are now banished permanently from my diet, as they probably are from yours, except for a few non-negotiable necessities, like cheese. Can’t live without it or, perhaps more appropriately stated, not worth living without.

But one of the other loves of my life, birds and bird watching, also is not negotiable. As 2009 drew to a close, I looked back over some of the highlights and lowlights that affected our feathered friends, not just in our own community, but in the larger community that is our planet.

Climate change and global warming and the potential impacts to all life on Earth is not a linear process as evidenced by breeding success for Arctic nesting birds, like the Snow Goose that winters in New Mexico. In parts of Canada, 2009 spring temperatures were well below normal with snowpack covering much of the tundra where the geese nest, causing a 90% reduction in breeding success. Other areas warmed early and then cooled again, causing flooding of prime shorebird breeding areas that were slow to dry, causing heavy nest predation.

Scotland’s sea birds; however, had their best breeding season in more than a decade. The news was cause for elation after 10 years of repeated breeding failures for some species. The reason for the change is attributed to colder water temperatures that benefitted a prime food source, the sand eel, which were then available to seabirds throughout the nesting season. At the North Hill Preserve, Arctic Terns successfully fledged over 220 chicks. In 2008, not a single chick fledged.

Closer to home, domestic cats are again making the news. The American Bird Conservancy estimates that household pets and their feral cousins kill more than 100 million birds each year, The miniature backyard hunters that prey on everything from rabbits, birds, lizards, and mice, have, in some areas, become the hunted. A new study conducted in Tucson, Arizona shows that domestic cats were the most common meal of urban coyotes, comprising 42% of their diet. Paul Krausman, coauthor of the study and professor of wildlife conservation at the University of Montana reported that the number of cats killed by coyotes in the West is much higher than many people think.

In California, a superior court judge ruled in favor of a coalition of conservation groups to halt the controversial practice of Trap, Neuter, Release (TNR) for feral cats, pending environmental review. The court determined that Los Angeles and the Department of Animal Services had been secretly and unofficially promoting the practice of releasing feral cats to roam free after being neutered. The public will now have the opportunity to participate in the process to ensure an open, science-based approach to the issue of free-roaming cats.

Earlier this month, the U.S. House of Representatives passed a bill increasing penalties for killing birds protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. Particularly egregious killings would be treated as felonies with a fine of up to $50,000 and two years imprisonment. This is in response to several high profile arrests of roller pigeon racers. Roller pigeons have an unusual trait that causes them to tumble in mid-air, attracting the attention of raptors that view them as injured. The arrested individuals admitted systematically killing up to 3,000 raptors annually to undercover agents. The bill still needs to pass the Senate, where it is expected to have little opposition.

And, then there’s the simply unbelievable. Spooked by fireworks, Sadie, a petite pomeranian, leapt from the safety of her owner’s front porch and fled to the woods, destined to become a late-night snack for a Great Horned Owl. She was carried over the city for more than two miles, firmly gripped by the owl’s powerful feet and talons, when the owl lost its grip and dropped her. Imagine the surprise of onlooker, Jamie Padden as she watched the little dog fall from the sky right in front of her car with the owl in hot pursuit. As the little dog scrambled to get away, Padden leapt from her car, screamed at the owl, and scooped up little Sadie who was reunited later with her owner. Great Horned Owls are particularly effective predators, hunting under the cover of night, and taking prey up to the size of skunks. In general, raptors are successful in only about 20% of their hunting attacks. Suprisingly, Sadie suffered only bruising and tenderness around her hindquarters. Now that is one lucky dog!

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.