Red-shouldered hawk (juvenile).
The first thing I noticed about today was the cloudlessness of the morning sky. Fact is, I did see one small, faint cloud to the south, over the ocean—otherwise, cloudless. The temperature started about 24 degrees (F) but rose rapidly in the sun.
Juvenile red-shouldered hawk.
The day soon turned incredibly busy indoors. But I did take a morning breather on the back deck, where I heard the voices of a titmouse and a few chickadees. Crows made their usual circuits. For the first time, I noticed a a group of about a half dozen crows follow a local jogger as he veered over into the yard of the motel across the road. Apparently he’s been feeding them something. After he jogged off, the crows flapped to the ground where he’d been and each carried something away.
About midday I got a telephone tip about a roadside hawk up the hill from me. I grabbed my camera and hopped in my truck and drove about three-quarters of a mile north. What a gorgeous day—must’ve been 40 degrees (F) out there. And, sure enough, I spotted a slim, comely hawk on an electrical service line at the Island View Inn. Pulled over, emerged with my camera. After I’d managed only a couple distant shots, the hawk took off and soared down into a conifer near the Island View parking lot. I drove down the drive, snapped some photos through my pickup’s window. But the hawk then flew again, over to another conifer on the bay side of the building. Surprisingly, it allowed me to park, get out, and approach to within about ten or twelve feet of it.
It finally flew again—I figured because I’d gotten too near—but then immediately sort of crashed into a rock in a nearby garden, so I thought maybe it’d let me get so close because it was sick or injured. But no. Because right away it hopped up with a mouse or vole in its beak. Then it transferred its prey into its talons. And then it stood there looking at me as if saying, “What?”
Juvenile red-shouldered hawk with prey.
I’d thought at first it was a cooper’s hawk, but come to find out it was the same juvenile red-shouldered that’s been hanging out in the area for a week or more. And comparing my photos to other photos of that bird confirms it: same markings, same eye-gleam, same ratty-edged tail. The only other time I’ve seen a hawk snag a meal was when a red-tail took a chickadee from a feeder next door a couple winters ago. The chickadee sent out notes of alarm as it was being carried away. (“Hawk! Hawk! Hawk”) Today’s rodent kill did not seem nearly so sad.
I might check again on the young raptor tomorrow.
By 4 p.m. or so, I’d had it with desk work. I drove over to the Beech Hill parking lot. What with the warm temps, I figured I wouldn’t need snowshoes—and I was right. Well-packed if somewhat greasy footing, with just a slip or two. I walked quickly up the lower wooded trail, pausing occasionally to listen. Heard no birds, heard no sounds at all except for the breeze and my own breathing and my heartbeat in my ears.
The sun had set behind the hill by the time I emerged in the open area below the summit. Cool. Quiet. Beautiful. Then I heard it: a soft, faint twee—some kind of sparrow, I bet. I heard it four or five times but couldn’t identify the bird. Sounded somewhat like a white-throat, but I imagined it might be a tree sparrow. Whatever it was, it applied a sweet, subtle punctuation mark on a vivid winter day.
(Note: I can’t help but mention the sky tonight—with no clouds in the way, I’ve got a clear view of Orion and Siruis and Mars.)
Today’s List
Black-capped chickadee
Tufted titmouse
American crow
Herring gull
Red-shouldered hawk
Beech Hill.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, herring gull, red-shouldered hawk, tufted titmouse
