CSI West Kennebunk

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about finding evidence of a large bird having landed near some of our feeders and wondered if a hawk was haunting the area. These suspicious were confirmed last weekend. 

Around noon on Sunday, January 23, I looked out a second-floor window onto the feeding area and saw more marks made by large wing feathers in the snowbank; they're barely discernible in lower center right of this shot [click on it to bring up a larger copy of the image]:

Here's a close-up shot, taken from ground level:

Once I got a good look at the wing marks I began searching for further evidence. There was nothing right there under this feeder, but back up on the path  in front of the house there was plenty of it--lots of feathers in the path and in the snow banks:

There was one largish feather sticking out of the snow in a bank near the house:

I dug around it a bit and quickly uncovered a small trove of others:

Judging from the color, and the spots on some of them, I think the victim was most likely a Mourning Dove. Of which there are plenty around here. The photo on the Cornell site shows feather spots like quite clearly.

I kept looking around for more evidence and noted an odd depression in the snow on the opposite side of the path, on the lawn. I trudged through the knee-deep snow to get a better look and was rewarded by finding a very clear imprint of a large bird:

 

He or she came down facing the house, and had probably approached from one of the trees in the middle of the front lawn. I didn't think to measure the print but the most likely culprit was a Cooper's Hawk. It was definitely much larger bird than a Sharp-shinned Hawk like the one that crashed into the house in late December.

After gathering what evidence I could I made mental plans to do a blog post about what I'd found, but before I had the chance to do so the hawk struck again! On Wednesday afternoon, about 3:15, I again looked out at the feeder area from the upstairs window--I check the area frequently to see what visitors we're hosting--and saw what looked like a couple of feathers underneath the large bottle feeder. I went out to investigate, and, sure enough, it was a small tuft of feathers, this time with a bit of bloody flesh attached. These had a reddish tinge to them, so I suspect that a female Northern Cardinal was the victim this time. 

I again walked back towards the front of the house and again found the marks of large wings in the snowbank. [NOTE: The late-afternoon light was very poor for taking pictures so I've cranked up the contrast in this and the following shots to exaggerated, grossly unnatural levels in order to bring out the detail.]:

I went back in the house, thinking that I'd seen all that was to be seen, but when I looked out a second-story window at the front of the house I was surprised to again see a strange imprint in the snow. I went back out, camera in hand, and again trudged through the deep snow to get a better look. There, not ten feet from where the earlier imprint had been, and in much the same orientation, was clear evidence of another crash-landing by a large bird:

I don't quite know how to interpret the marks up near where the head was; it almost looks as though a Pterodactyl was here! The bird must have been thrashing around and those marks are tracks left by its beak.

This time I had the presence of mind to bring out a tape measure in order to give some sense of scale:

Again, click on the images to bring up a larger copies and to make the numbers on the tape readable. The spot where I placed the end of the tape was probably not where the top of the bird's head actually was, so the reading of 24" is probably too long. The Sibley guide gives 16.5" as the average length of a Cooper's Hawk; the Cornell site gives 14.6-15.4" as the average length for a male and 16.5-17.7" for a female -- females of most raptor species are generally larger than the males. If my bird really was nearly 2' long from stem to stern, that would suggest a Northern Goshawk. Not impossible, but Goshawks are birds of the deep woods. Unless and until I actually get a good look at our local predator, I'm going to assume that it's most likely a female Cooper's Hawk.

Since finding the second set of evidence I've been more vigilant about monitoring activity outside the house. So far there's been no further sign of the hawk. Thinking back, however, I recall that on the day before the second kill I'd noted some odd behavior from a male Hairy Woodpecker. Hairys are a nearly-constant presence at our suet, so it was not at all surprising to see one clinging to the tree just under one of the suet feeders. What was surprising was that when I checked again, several minutes later, he was still there, in nearly the same spot. I made subsequent checks over the course of several minutes, and though he moved a bit, he never got far from the position in which I first saw him. It was almost as if he was frozen to the tree. I finally went out to check on him, thinking there might be something wrong with him, but upon my approach he flew away very quickly. I wonder now if the "frozen" bird was adopting that posture to avoid being spotted by a hawk?

Barred Owls, Part 2

A few odds and ends to follow up on my post about Barred Owls from two days ago.

A nice framed print of Audubon's rendering of the Barred Owl is among the numerous bird images that hang in our home. It's a decent copy of the engraving that appeared in Audubon's magnum opus, The Birds of America. 

The image depicts the owl poised to nab a gray squirrel, one of his favorite menu items. The squirrel seems to be unnaturally cooperative, just sitting there, waiting to be snatched up. While it is true that Audubon took some flak for portraying scenes that were not always scientifically accurate, in this instance the fault may lie not with him, but with Robert Havell, the English engraver who transformed Audubon's original art works into images for the printed page. In Audubon's original painting there is no squirrel:

 

Audubon rendered the squirrel separately, and Havell combined the two images when he did the engraving. The original painting of the squirrel was, I believe, of a single animal, but it was used yet again in Audubon's second great work, The Quadrupeds of North America, with a companion added to the composition:

Audubon wrote of the Barred Owl [in his Ornithological Biography] that it "...is found in all those parts of the United States which I have visited, and is a constant resident. In Louisiana it seems to be more abundant than in any other state. It is almost impossible to travel eight or ten miles in any of the retired woods there, without seeing several of them even in broad day; and, at the approach of night, their cries are heard proceeding from every part of the forest around the plantations." [Text and images taken from the site Audubon Images.] 

Many other writers talk of the Barred Owl's relative abundance. Arthur Cleveland Bent, in his Life Histories of North American Birds of Prey, characterizes it as "our commonest large owl." Bent describes some of its habits: "It is a forest-loving bird, living mainly in the deep, dark woods, heavily wooded swamps, gloomy hemlock forests, or thick growths of tall, dense pines, where it spends most of the day in the quiet seclusion of its shady retreats. In such resorts it is seldom disturbed, but when its haunts are invaded it is not caught napping; it often greets the intruder with its weird hooting notes and flies about quite actively, even in broad daylight. Much of its hunting is done in the open country and about the farms, and in fall and winter it occasionally ventures into the villages and even into cities in search of food. "

Although modern ornithologists recognize only a single species of Barred Owl, given the Latin name Strix varia, in Bent's time [1937-38] there were thought to be two distinct species: the Northern (Strix varia varia) and Florida (Strix varia alleni). I do not know when the two were collapsed into one.

The Barred Owl has not just been the subject of painters and photographers, but of poets as well. Distinguished American poet Richard Wilbur has written of calming a young girl's fears engendered by hearing an owl's cry, in his poem, "A Barred Owl." The text, and an audio file of the poet reading his own work, can be found at the Poetry Archive. 

Then, of course, the bird's name itself has great literary connotations! Once, following a birding expedition on which I'd seen a Barred Owl, a friend who is an English professor and birder himself, asked if I'd seen any good birds. I told him that the most interesting thing I'd seen had been a "Shakespeare owl."  He didn't get it... 

Lots more information about all sorts of owls can be found on The Owl Pages. I've just barely begun to explore them. For a lovely online presentation of all the images from Birds of America, check out this virtual catalog from the Musée de la Civilisation in Montreal.

Whooosh!!!!

I never cease to be amazed at how many times when I'm out birding I decide to take One Last Look around before climbing in my truck and driving away, and with that Last Look I'm rewarded with the best sighting of the day. Take yesterday, for instance.....

I'd driven down to Wells in the afternoon to visit some friends. After leaving their place shortly after 4:00 I decided to swing out to the beach area to see if there were any interesting birds about. This wasn't a totally spontaneous move on my part; I'd brought along my good binoculars and my trusty Sibley field guide with the thought of making just such a foray.

From US1 I drove down Eldridge Road, turned off on Ocean Ave, and then onto Webhannet Drive that runs along the beach. I pulled over for a bit and enjoyed some good looks at a couple of female Common Eiders who were feeding in the surf, quite close to the surge line. One successfully came up from a dive with something in her bill--I couldn't tell just what it was--and was immediately set upon by two Herring Gulls who were trying to capitalize on her good fortune and hard work by stealing her plunder. She put up pretty good resistance, but in the end lost out to the gulls' superior numbers and bulk.

There wasn't a lot of other action out there so I headed for the parking lot at the mouth of Wells Harbor, which is usually a pretty good spot for, um, spotting birds. Seals often hang around there as well. No seals yesterday, but there was a largish flock of Double-crested Cormorants, a few Bonaparte's Gulls, several more Eiders, the usual Herring and Ring-billed Gulls, and--a bit of a treat--a Common Loon. We see Loons there with some degree of regularity, but it's always a pleasure when we do. The Loon and the Bonaparte's Gulls are in their off-season plumage now. I had hoped perhaps to see an Osprey or Northern Harrier over the marsh, but no such luck. They've probably mostly headed for warmer climes at this point, though an Osprey flew overhead while I was stuck in traffic on Rte. 128 outside Boston last week, and I did see three Harriers at Plum Island on Friday.

So, assuming I'd seen about all there was to see there I walked back to my truck. I'd unlocked the driver's side door when I turned around to scan the area one more time....and saw something flying very fast in pursuit of a smaller bird, out over the channel. Holy crap! Whazzat??? 

Even before I got my binoculars trained on it--no mean feat when the object of desire is traveling as fast as this thing was--I'd figured out that it must be a falcon, based on the wing shape. And, because of its size, it had to be a Peregrine!! Yup--with a quick look through the binocs I was rewarded with a glimpse of the unmistakable Elvis sideburns of a Peregrine Falcon! Woo-hoo! This was only the fourth one I've ever seen, but the third had been last Friday on Plum Island. Not a bad week for raptors.

Definitely worth taking that One Last Look!