Fearless Predators -- Nurturing Partners
The
Most Amazing Red-tails I’ve Ever Met
Like all of you, I enjoy
watching birds and have a variety of bird feeders scattered around the
yard. Observing the birds as they come
and go provides endless hours of entertainment.
This year’s spring migration has been our best ever -- an incredible
listing of 56 bird species seen from the kitchen window so far.
In addition to the more
exotic neotropical migrants, we also receive daily visits from several of the
more common bird species. One of the more
unusual entries in this category -- at least for my backyard -- is a nesting
hen mallard. Ever since the snow melted
this spring, a good portion of my backyard has been underwater. Consequently, the area I normally mow is now
a pond. This development did not escape
the attention of a pair of mallards who soon claimed the “temporary wetland” as
their own. Before long, the hen became
visibly heavy with eggs and soon began disappearing into heavier cover. Within a couple of weeks, the drake was on his
own again. From then on, we only see the
hen during a brief period each afternoon when she emerges from wherever her
nest is hidden to get a drink and to scavenge whatever seeds may have been
spilled from the feeders. I have fully
expected raccoons to discover and devour her nest but, so far, all has
proceeded on schedule --- that is until yesterday afternoon.
Shortly after arriving home,
I peered out the kitchen window and was pleased to see the feeders humming with
activity. But when I returned less than
five minutes later, the scene had changed dramatically. So much so, in fact, that I could scarcely
believe my eyes. As usual, the hen
mallard had appeared in the yard; but on this occasion she wasn’t looking for
spilled grain. Instead, the duck was lying
flat on the ground -- less than 15 yards from the house -- with a red-tailed
hawk standing on her back. Who would
believe it? Racing for the camera, I
began to document the incident. After
obtaining several ‘voucher photos’ through the kitchen’s double-paned glass, I
dropped below the window opening and attempted to quietly slide open the frame
for a sharper picture. Just as I was
about to make my move, the mallard suddenly flexed her left wing. Could the hen still be alive?
Surveying its surroundings
for possible danger, the red-tail remained still as a statue -- one foot
completely wrapped around the hen’s neck, the other on the ground. Maybe the hawk had caught the duck mere
seconds before I discovered the scent and had not yet dispatched its prey. The question was answered when the hawk
caught the movement of my hand at the window and immediately took wing. Just as quickly, the mallard was back on her
feet -- ruffled, but apparently otherwise unharmed. Ignoring the nearby pond and spilled bird
seed, the terrified hen lost no time in returning to thick cover. As she disappeared, I couldn’t help but
wonder if the duck would ever realize how very fortunate she was. Once a red-tailed hawk has its foot securely
wrapped around a bird’s neck, the chances of that bird surviving are virtually
nil. My arriving home and looking out
the window had cost the hawk its meal, but had also spared the mallard’s
life. Whether my accidental intrusion
was good or bad is purely a matter of perspective.
For me, this spectacular
true-life, backyard birding adventure was highly unusual to say the least. The event was also extremely puzzling. There is no denying that red-tailed hawks are
formidable predators. And although
winter hardened red-tails routinely subdue larger prey such as cottontail
rabbits and fox squirrels; their fierce aggression usually wanes as smaller
prey species such as mice, ground squirrels and garter snakes become abundant
in summer. Why this particular red-tail
chose to take on a full grown mallard -- in a backyard -- on the 29th
of May, will likely remain a mystery.
What is not mystery, however,
is the hawk’s identity. I know the bird
very well. He’s an adult male and we’re
practically on a first name basis. The
hawk and I have, in fact, been neighbors for the past eleven years.
The red-tail and his mate
currently have a nest on the edge of a mile-long cattle pasture on the south
side of Clear Lake. The nest is located
about a mile from my house; at least as the crow -- or in this case the buteo
-- flies. I first became acquainted with
the pair in 2002. That’s when they moved
in and built a nest in a small oak woodlot where I sometimes hunted for
deer. [Red-tailed hawks exhibit a wide
range of plumage variations and both members of this pair had unique markings
that made future identification a breeze.]
Life was good for the red-tail pair --- catching mice and
thirteen-liners, eating snakes, raising babies, riding the thermals. Following a few successful seasons, the good
times ended abruptly one winter when a pair of great horned owls appropriated
the nest for themselves. It’s a fairly
common occurrence, and the hawks responded by moving a half mile east and
building a new nest. Although the new
location offered fewer trees and less protection from the weather, the pair
enjoyed several good seasons and usually produced at least two young each
summer. But the good times ended once
again when a violent summer storm swept across the pasture in 2010, completely
destroying the second nest. I didn’t see
the hawks again until weeks later when I spotted the female limping along near
the south edge of the pasture. Dragging
her left wing, the bird appeared to be in rough shape. Whether the injury had been caused by a collision
during a hunt or by the previous storm was anybody’s guess. It was mid-August and what was certain was
that the bird had been rendered flightless, and flightless raptors simply don’t
survive in the wild -- or do they?
Returning to the pasture some
time later, I spotted the hawk again.
This time, she was at the edge of the pavement feeding on a road killed
raccoon. To see this formerly
magnificent and successful raptor reduced to feeding on carrion was a sad event
and starkly depicted how desperate the situation had become.
Later that day, I saw the
female again. This time she had
company. The male was with her, and I
began to wonder if it was possible that he would attempt to care for his mate
in the same way he would attend to a grounded fledgling. As it turned out, that’s exactly what the
male did. He fed and protected his
grounded mate until weeks later, her injured wing began to slowly show signs of
improvement. In time, the female was
able to hop to a low perch, to the top of a wooden fence post, and finally to a
low branch. Slowly but surely, the
red-tail was recovering. Weeks later, I
spotted the female along with her faithful companion, perched on the wooden
cross bar of a power pole. Although the
female was still favoring her left wing, I began to believe that she really
might live to survive the injury.
The hawk grew stronger by the
day, and by early October she was back riding the thermals and hunting for
herself. In February of 2011, the pair
began constructing their third nest.
This time, the birds chose a sturdier tree located about 20 yards from
where the last structure blew down.
During the summer of 2011, the pair raised two beautiful young. Last year was also a success and, although I
don’t yet know many babies are in the nest this year, the pair is currently
raising their 2013 crop of young. What I
do know, is that these red-tails have had an incredible life together so
far. They also represent the one and
only example that I know of where one hawk has successfully rehabilitated
another. As far as I’m concerned, this
raptor pair definitely belongs in the Red-tailed Hawk Edition of the Guinness
Book of World Records. Walt Disney
himself couldn’t have dreamed up a more amazing story or happier ending. In the great out-of-doors, fact truly can be
stranger than fiction.
Lowell Washburn
Clear Lake, Iowa
May
30, 2013
