Miscellany [updated]

*
I've been "falling back" all day---what have you slugs been doing?

I'm listening to Lenny Bernstein conduct "The Firebird" (1919 version) while preparing to announce the identity of Rodan, the avian raptor who visited final hell on a squirrel in my back yard the other morning. Bernstein's interpretation of the final triumphal theme (not sure what it's called, but it's what most of us rubes think of as the "famous firebird theme") is really kind of tacky, in my opinion---weird melodramatic "stutter steps" thrown in during the first woodwind leg of the lyrical melody, presumably so Bernstein could majestically profile for the society ladies and gentlemen. Then, as the brass join for the thrilling climax, he turns the thing into some kind of stilted, wooden march with approximately zero excitement or soul. It's the only version I have at this point, so I guess I'll shop for another.

Anyway, after poking around on Cornell University's bird site (home page here) I found a specimen of juvenile red-tail hawk that resembles my local guy. The juveniles have little or no red in the tail. What did surprise me, though, is how many "morphs" of this species there are---not only white-breasted ones, but some that are almost entirely a graphite color. Even though they are present around the year, the do migrate as Gurlitzer pointed out, so new individuals pass through.

Update: I just discovered that I've been wearing one brown and one black shoe most of the night. I suppose this phenomenon closely complements the increasing amount of drool that I'm finding on my pillow case these days.

The dawn of Rodan

*

Look at this monster. This is what greeted me when I raised the honeycomb-type window shade in my bedchamber this morning.

I see hawks in the yard fairly often owing to all the hawk feeding stations (i.e., songbird feeders) I have deployed throughout Moronica International State Park, the confines within which I live. But when I raised the shade, this juggernaut startled me all the way from the back of the property, at least 50 ft away from the window. My best guess is that his body alone, excluding his head and tail, was the size of a football.

Naturally, the battery was dead in the Nikon D-80 I've hung by the windows for such occasions. But Rodan seemed to be taking his time, so I was able to load a fresh cell, open the special non-screened shooting gallery window in the so-called breakfast nook adjoining the master suite, and began firing off snapshots. The zoom lens, extending only to a maximum of 200 mm, is barely adequate for capturing detail at such a distance.

After spazzing out just to make sure I captured something, I slowed down to start watching in order to select shots. The raptor's head was pretty mobile while eviscerating his breakfast, so timing matters. (I've never used a motor drive to capture "the decisive moment" through an accident of statistical probability since I consider it to be lazy.) While watching more closely I noticed some interesting detail accompanying nature's majestic pageant of evisceration. Pictured is an example.

After capturing about a dozen shots I put the camera away. And then, a minute later it occurred to me that I was stupid for not trying to sneak up on him for a closer view. So I got out the D-80 once more and sneaked out the quiet way---out the front door and around the west side. I couldn't get any closer, but I was able to shoot from a different angle. Obligingly, Rodan pivoted clockwise to show me a couple of profiles. Here is the best:

After this shot, I moved closer and Rodan effortlessly hopped over a 5 ft. fence with a partial squirrel carcass in its talon. Neither a Cooper's hawk nor the sharp-shinned hawk is large or strong enough to own a squirrel like this; I've watched and photographed one (either/or) be thwarted by your typical, everyday d-bag squirrel for several minutes. I have never seen this species before at close range, and my quick effort to identify it using my phone app turned up nothing. I think this is the same bird I pointed out to Beer-D recently, looking every bit the monster soaring lazily at 200 or 300 feet aloft. Apart from his size, I can't find any hawk species native to this area that has a clear, white breast. Also distinct from the local populations is the eye color---almost a light green-gold---and the rufous-brown shading behind the eye and around the beak. (However, the color around the beak might also be a swab of squirrel blood.) Judging from the tail so nicely displayed in this photo, he's (she's?) obviously not a red-tail. But then, there are differences in species based on gender, age, and even subspecies variants.

It will be a day or two before I can identify this beast. Maybe there's a bird watcher reading who knows what it is. If you click on either photo, it should display itself much larger.

What I saw south of town last evening

*

Touring on the road bike, trying out a new pair of shoes:

1. A soaring red-tail hawk, landing atop a tall utility pole, then pacing me with slowly flapping wings about 100 ft to the east, heading south. I wasn't sure of my identification and I told it to show me his tail, not expecting to have my request acknowledged. After about 15 seconds he caught a draft and executed a soaring banked hairpin U-turn that gave me visibility of his back, including a fiery red tail that was emphasized by the late-afternoon sun.

2. Upon my approach, a sudden rustling in some short rows of drought-stressed corn at the edge of the field to my immediate west. An awkwardly galloping groundhog, bounding along the row opposite my direction, with a cartoon-like cloud of dust drifting on the wind from where he first bugged out.

3. During a water stop, a frantic group of killdeer trying to pester and lure me away from some nearby ground nests. Three or four flew around me in wide, interleaved circles, producing a din of racket that sounded like angry baritone seagulls (I've never heard these birds say "kill-deer" as the are reputed to do). At the same time, about 50 ft back toward town, one of them put on the famous broken-wing act, which I'd never seen before. Typically, when a cyclist rides through their territory, they will escort the rider about 30 to 50 ft in advance, flying low and alternating with a rapid walk until the bike closes in to about 20 ft. At that point, they resume low flight over the blacktop.

4. The red-tail again, or one of similar proportions, flapping lazily toward the south from where I was returning. Behind it, a small, fast black bird of some kind. This puzzled me as big hawks should be kind of scary to smaller birds, but this one closed on the raptor quickly, looking like it was trying to win a race. Then suddenly, from slightly above, the blackbird divebombed the hawk, pecking once at its back then swinging wide to the right and getting lost fast. I recognized the call as belonging to a redwing blackbird. They are very aggressive about protecting their nests, which they build in ditches using grasses and mud. The males will perch on telephone wires to watch over their territory, and will sometimes get aggressive with passing bicyclists, pecking at their heads or helmets. Evidently they don't take any crap from red-tailed hawks, either.

Predator on the premises

*

I've been watching this impressive little raptor this spring as he has scouted my bird feeders for victuals. Two weeks ago he, or someone very much like him, slammed into my house---the siding, I believe, not a window---presumably while trying to pick a morsel off the two-prong pole near the back of my house. When I got to the back window to investigate, I saw some feathers swirling around and a hawk standing on the ground between the house and the feeder. He hopped to the top of the pole, then flew away, probably embarrassed with himself. Didn't get a good look at him then, though.

Then, a week ago, I came upon this guy with a freshly caught juvenile starling in its talons. He hopped over the fence for more privacy, but I went around and was able to observe him for several minutes at a distance as he picked at his still-living captive.

Today, interrupting myself from a writing task upstairs, I saw him perched atop the two-prong feeder near the ground-floor back windows. I observed him for probably 5 minutes total. Only after about 3 minutes, when he hopped first to the ground then farther away to the patio, did it occur to me to grab a camera. The best I could do was the Sony F717, a fairly high-end older point-and-shoot setup with a fixed Carl Zeiss (i.e., high-quality) zoom lens. I fumbled with it just to find a suitable auto configuration and managed to snap five or six frames while he perched on the arm of the heavy-duty captain's chair normally reserved for Rudy. I wasn't optimistic by the results, but was pleasantly surprised to see the large-scale snapshots. This is the best one, cropped at full resolution but compressed somewhat as a jpeg file. If you click the picture, you should see a decent enlargement with a critical detail for identification purposes.

I am officially identifying this creature as a juvenile or near-adult Sharp-Shinned Hawk. I'd been thinking he was probably a Cooper's hawk, but he is smaller than one I saw last year, and based on previous glimpses he appears to be more aggressive than Cooper's are reputed to be in chasing prey into foliage. The telltale clue is the yellow eye, which aren't found on Cooper's hawks. When comparing this picture with photos on Cornell's bird website, All About Birds, I was satisfied that his head configuration and feather patterns match those of the Sharp-Shinned Hawk.

Beer-D and I call this guy "Omar," in tribute to the oddly ethical "stick-up boy" from HBO's series The Wire. I can't actually verify his gender, but we choose to consider Omar to be a male unless the contrary is proved by an ornithologist.

My lesson learned for the day was to move my Nikon D80 from the closet to a hook by the back windows, set to fully automatic mode with a freshly charged battery and a zoom lens attached. Duh. (Slow learner.)