Sharing Some Raptor Love

I have been lucky this late winter to spot some great raptors while driving or hiking or just looking out my back yard! These stately creatures are so dramatic looking and imperious. They know their place in the grand scheme of things.

I spotted this "fellow" in the photo above in the distance near the mouth of the river as we worked our way down a bumpy country road to a remote boat launch that hunters use. It is an immature Bald Eagle. He does look a little ratty in the close-up below.

Another day and a trip to one of the nearby state parks I saw this beauty along the roadside as we pulled into the parking lot.  He "may" be an immature Cooper's Hawk.  I could not see his front as he has his head is cranked back to see why we were stopping the car.

This final photo below was a visitor to my back yard which I think is a Red-Tailed Hawk. He was hard to capture through all the branches and I did not want to get close enough to make him fly.

These top-of-the-food-chain birds do not eat my songbirds very often.  The best one for catching songbirds is the Merlin and I very rarely see those!

This Morning

Long before the winter's sun broke over the black horizon, just when the sky was turning its cold pink, the red-tailed hawk could be heard crying high in the sky over my house.  His piercing call was the only sound in the cold desert of the morning's silence. Was it in celebration of the new day or in sadness over the shortness of the day before solstice?

The Scree of a Song

I keep bird feeders in the back yard since I am part of a Cornell University feeder project.  I count birds for a brief time two days a week and enter data on the Cornell site, part of what is called 'citizen science' collecting data from back yards all around the United States.  It is a simple task, and perhaps, will help in the study of migration, disease, population, etc. of those birds that frequent feeders in the U.S.  This feeding of my feathered friends also attracts birds that feed on the birds that come to the feeders.  Early one cold morning I saw the silhouette below of a resident in our woods sitting above the feeders on a broken tree stand.  Patient, regal, and all knowing in his right to be there.

I apologize for the graininess of these photos, some taken through windows and others taken in backlighting or with little natural light.  This hawk is puffed up because it was a cold morning.  A hot breakfast would do him well.

Later as the sun came up he moved to the side of the house and this was taken not only through a window but a screened window as well!  He is a red-shouldered hawk that most often feeds on moles and voles and not little birds.  His diving and turning is not as good as theirs is in flight in the tangled woods.  Perhaps he is listening for the movement of moles and mice that live beneath the feeders under a layer of spilled seed.  He and his partner live in the woods nearby and I have seen them courting in years past.

He came back the next morning and as you can see by his slim silhouette he is not as cold and neither was the morning.

I got a better shot in the late afternoon of the same day.  This is their mating season and I can hear his "scree...scree...scree" high over the trees during the day. I look up and see him sailing like a kite.  He is either flirting with his mate or just joyous because he feels so sexy.  Above he has become a little annoyed at my presence.  I am a distraction to his concentrating.

I edited the photo above with a softer, more painterly, effect to pretend that I was able to get closer.  

His Majesty

He sits, imperious, holding that regal pose, focused on the tiniest sound of movement and watching that precious lift of a leaf by the wood mouse in search of an errant seed.  He glowers, overlooking small birds with various brightly colored feathers that fly across his view and land teasingly close.  They ignore His Majesty without fear knowing his diet does not include them, knowing their dive and twist into the woods outmatches his sweep and swerve.  Yet the buteo's piercing eyes are magnetic and steely sharp as if they could see below the crust of this winter's earth into the safe den of each small rodent.  Broad wings are held tightly against his magnificent body like the drape of a royal cloak soft as a pashmina shawl in the color of warm chestnut.  He is both patient and intensely alert in the low angled winter afternoon sun.  I am impressed and glad to see him as my yard has been interwoven with the net of tunnels of moles and voles and spring will bring a population explosion.

(Taken through the screened kitchen window one recent afternoon.)

Who, Who Are You?

This hawk, which I could not identify, was sitting at the edge of the backyard only 30 feet from the bird feeders.  We saw him upon our return to the house a few weekends ago.  He sat there with the snow falling on his shoulders looking out over the river, his back to the wind.  He must have heard our return to the house because he started to turn his head as I took this quick grainy photo from the window.  There were many birds eating calmly at the feeders to his left, so I am guessing this must not be a bird hawk of some kind.  He was pretty big.  I have seen the Cooper's hawk in the area and the birds totally disappear when he arrives.  He sat there for at least five minutes.  Any guesses?

P.S.  Cornell says this looks like a juvenile Red-Tailed hawk.  I did not ask them to ID as I am sure they get tons of photos...but since I am participating in the feeder count, they actually asked for the photo.   Good to know.

The photos above are part of  a "drive-by shooting" of what I think is a red-shouldered hawk.  As I was on my way to run errands, I saw him at the edge of the highway and I stopped suddenly and pulled the car over to catch this fellow (cropped and grainy) in his majestic glory in the trees above me.  He tolerated me for longer than I deserved as I had disturbed his hunt.  I have seen him in this same location several times this winter, so this roadside must be rich in varmints.

More Florida Birds

We were happy to see this Florida osprey.  He looked thinner than our mid-Atlantic fish hawks and whiter, but perhaps he was a migrant and we just didn't recognize him in his warmer wardrobe.  The hurricane that passed through a few years ago managed to destroy large sections of mangrove which left dead branch perches everywhere for these regal birds.

We paddled by this yellow crowned night heron, but he did not look  happy.  I hope that it was just the cold and windy weather that made him look out of sorts.  (Not that he was so crabby hungry!) The yellow on the forehead explains how is named which you can see more clearly if you click on the photo---I did not reduce the pixels.  He is supposed to be most active in the nighttime, but we saw quite a few during the daylight hours along the edge of the mangrove looking for crabs, frogs and fish.

Belated Goose Dinner

(As a prescript the following is about death and a little bit of blood, in case you are the queasy type.)


Hubby was the one who had first heard the heavy rustling beneath the holly tree down by the dock. He had gone to check ropes and cages and what not.   He was brave enough to cross the frozen marsh grass and see what was going on.  I was a little afraid.

There in the shelter of the grass against the river bank, and just hidden by the marsh grasses and part of the holly tree, a large and regal hawk had managed to pull in a goose for his dinner. We are guessing that the goose had been maimed by a hunter. We hear shots routinely from the fallow corn field down the river.  The hawk was pulling hard with his claws trying to drag the remains of this heavy bounty over the hills of marsh grasses and closer against the bank of the river away from the quick eyes of other predators.

While he did not seem to mind our visit, he was cautious and made it clear by the spread of his wings, this dinner was his and his alone and he would defend that if I looked too hungry.  His wings also hid the snow white of the goose breast that had been exposed.  He would dip his head and pull hard at the breast and come up with a mouthful of feathers.  Soon the feathers were tipped in red and he began the real meal starting with the sweet organs.

More than several hours later when I returned to the river for more photos he had reduced much of the goose to down and white feathers that were beginning to drift everywhere across the marsh as evidence of his good winter meal.  His mouth was touched in red as were bits of flesh that had landed on his wings.  He had really been enjoying himself.  Later in the evening he rested in a nearby tree above the river and was able to digest the meal as the cold weather kept tomorrow's breakfast nice and chilled below him.  These were taken with a telephoto, so I did not get as close as it looks.  Be sure to click on the photos so that you can also enjoy the meal.  

When I returned several days later I found the entire carcass had been spirited away, perhaps by the gray fox we saw the other day. All that was left was the downy evidence shown above.