Three days ago a long birding trip resulted in only mediocre photos. But I discovered that there are are worse outcomes than being bird-skunked.
Blog followers know that I’ve been following a Red-tailed Hawk nest all spring and early summer but there are actually two nests in fairly close proximity to each other. The first two photos of each nest below were taken 15 days ago, on June 20.
This is the primary nest I’ve been following. I’ve been watching it more closely than the other nest because it’s lower on its cliff so the chicks have been easier to see, especially when they were small. There were originally three chicks in the nest but by the time I made this trip there were only two.
I’ll refer to this nest as nest A.
This is the other nearby nest that I’ve been watching less carefully. It’s much higher on its cliff so it’s been more difficult to see into. I’ve never seen more than two chicks in it.
I’ll refer to it as nest B.
On my trip of June 20 I estimated that the chicks in both nests would fledge in two weeks or less so three days ago, July 2, I made the trip again. I had hopes of finding recently fledged chicks out of their nests but still nearby as they were being fed and watched over by their parents. Following is what I found.
- Nest A: The nest was empty and I found neither hide nor feather of either the fledged chicks or their parents nearby. I think it’s reasonable to assume that both chicks fledged successfully and after a few days of being cared for out of the nest by the parents all four hawks had dispersed as they naturally do. I was just too late and I’m fine with that.
- Nest B: This nest was also empty but what I found and didn’t find was much more alarming.
The first time I drove by nest B I found no hawks in the nest or nearby so I proceeded to nest A. But perhaps a half hour later when I returned to nest B I found, and heard, something deeply disturbing that still haunts me.
The only hawk in the vicinity of nest B was what I believe to be the adult female parent and she was in obvious distress. For the 20+ minutes I watched her she flew from rock to rock on the expansive mountainside and she was screaming almost constantly as she flew and after she landed. On average I estimate that I could hear her scream about once every 5-7 seconds. She never stopped and she was still screaming when I left the area.
From my vantage point I had a clear view of the entire bowl-shaped mountainside and though I tried hard to find the fledged chicks and/or the adult male I failed. I can only guess what was causing her obvious and profound distress and none of the possibilities are good ones.
I’m not sure why but her cries echoing off the cliffs have haunted me for three days now. I’m usually fairly accepting of bird calamities that are natural as I presume (hope) this to be but damn, this one was and remains a hard one.
Ron
I’m sorry for the parent and for you, Ron. Small consolation, but words fail.
Thank you, Lyle.
Sad. Just sad. That’s all I can say right now. I’m going to believe that somebody, at least one of the kiddos, is surviving. I just NEED to believe that.
Me too.
I hope that’s the case, Laura.
Oh Ron.
I can well imagine how that plaintive call haunts you. Your description haunts me.
I heard that scream in my head all the way home, EC. It’s a long drive…
I am so very sorry.
I seem unable to ever lose the distress bleats of twin orphaned fawns whose mother was killed on the road…three of us searched for hours, hoping tomsave them , but could never find them..finally, the plaintiff calls stopped…but, I can still hear them…years later..
That must have been awful, Patty.
Sorry Ron, these things are hard for caring souls. I hate to hear that sound. It stabs at my heart. I still hear the mother redtail calling who’s fledgling we had to catch up and euthanize due to the shattered wing. You and I both know the long tragic story of that nest.
I remember that nest and those fledglings all to well, April. That was a tragic situation all around.
Did you want to investigate?
Leslie, if you mean investigate the immediate area of the nest, I couldn’t. It’s private land and it’s posted.
Hopefully the haunting cries will be replaced soon by something less stressful.
Pam, I hope she recovers quickly and moves on with her life and her survival.
I can only imagine what is going through her head right now. I’m hoping against hope for some sort of positive outcome.
Me too, Marty.
I have been following two Osprey nests this season. The father and oldest chick (at the first nest) have not been seen since the end of May. At the second nest, I discovered a deceased bird about a week ago. I thought it was one of the Osprey, but after further study it may have been a Red-Tailed Hawk. Still, I’m not 100% positive since two of the Osprey (male parent and fledgling) hadn’t been seen for a week. It is haunting so I totally understand how you feel.
David, in these situation it’s hard, often impossible, to figure out what’s happened. If those cliffs could only tell their tale…
Sad situation, Ron. Do I understand things correctly that where there once were 4 adults and 4 young, equally distributed across two different nests, you were only able to observe 1 adult RTHA?
If so, the missing other 3 adults is very concerning, since normally when nests get raided by Ravens, or Great Horned Owls at night, the adults seem to survive.
Yes, you understand correctly, Ed.
But I’m not particularly concerned about any of the 4 birds from nest A. Once the youngsters have fledged and are fairly independent in my experience it’s pretty typical for all of them to disperse, in part because the area has been depleted of prey, at least to some degree.
That’s what seems to happen with red-tails but I’m not sure about other raptor species.
I am at a loss to understand what could have befallen her chicks AND her mate, and am so saddened by this turn of events. Even though I know this is life in the wild — as I’m often reminded watching several raptor webcams — I’m sorry for this mother hawk’s apparent loss and your own feelings of distress. I do hope you might find the Nest A fledglings learning the ropes from their parents in some photography-friendly location in the near future ….
Chris, It would be nice to find the youngsters from nest A just to know they’re doing OK. I have little hope for the fledglings from nest B though.
I tried to come up with a positive scenario for your observation so I could inject some optimism into the discussion.
Sadly, I have failed.
Not knowing what really happened puts our imagination into overdrive.
Around the planet, there are new young birds in the air this season which will ultimately bring us a better day.
I failed too, Wally. Miserably.
No. You did not, Ron.
There are different vocalizations for calling young and warning of a predator. If an attack had taken place and the young killed, would she have been calling at all? If she didn’t know where the youngsters were or what happened, I can think she might call for days.
Sallie, based on my experience with red-tailed fledglings and her particular behavior I don’t believe she was predator warning. And I looked for predators in the area and didn’t see any – birds, mammals or otherwise.
This is alarming and a sad situation. Your description suggests that she was screaming at a predator she was not willing to tackle. Have you thought of using a drone and camera under these circumstances?
Dick, the short answer to your question is… I despise drones, especially in wild places.
I’ve often said “nature is brutiful” This is a perfect example. Beautiful one moment, brutal the next.
Well said, Cathy.
How terribly sad and haunting. Scenes like that are hard to watch. I’m always hesitant to drive through the marsh when the ducks and geese have their young. The parents do a fairly good job of keeping them hidden in the grasses but when I see only one or two young left out of 7 or 8 as they mature I can guess what has happened. Sometimes nature’s ways are cruel.
It’s hard isn’t it, Kathy. I try to be more clinical in my reactions to such things but in situations like this, especially when raptors are involved, I typically fail.
That would be distressing to witness Ron. What predators have you observed in that area? A real mystery. Earlier this year I sadly witnessed ravens killing the only Bald Eagle chick we had when the female had been forced to leave the nest to fish. Even if a large predator such as a Golden Eagle had tried to take them she would have fought them off to the best of her ability. May be a mystery that you will never find the answer for.
“What predators have you observed in that area?”
Everett, there are a few coyotes in the area but very few because coyote hunters there are very active. There’s a few Golden Eagles and ravens are common.
That IS distressing not knowing what has happened and, apparently, neither does the mother……. 🙁 Alison’s analogy to Shannon is appropriate… The “not knowing” is what will get to me – would rather know “the worst”…….
Agreed, Judy. In situations like this (involving humans or wildlife) uncertainty is just awful.
Hi Ron, as many calamities as there may be, I imagine the scene of a mother vainly seeking her offspring is one of the most wrenching, particularly when the parent is clearly exhibiting profound distress and engaged in a vain attempt to locate its young over a prolonged period of time. For me, at least, it calls to mind when your own daughter had sustained such a serious injury, and you were unsure of how full of recovery she might make. Our own vulnerability can make us exquisitely sensitive to others. At least in the best of all possible worlds…
Well said, Alison.
Yes, getting that phone call about Shannon’s accident was the most stressful event in my entire life, made infinitely worse because I was thousands of miles away and she was given “zero chance of survival” by her ER doctors.