For those who marvel at the grace of red-tailed hawks soaring over the Santa Monica Mountains, curiosity surely is sparked about the huge bird and other raptors.
Red tails are the largest and most plentiful species likely to be seen in Southern California. Their smaller and speedier cousin, the peregrine falcon, pushed to the brink of extinction by the now banned pesticide DDT, recovered by an amazing adaptation to urban living. Breeding pairs can now be seen in downtown L.A. nesting on skyscraper ledges and preying on unwary pigeons.
The fastest bird on earth has been celebrated by director Ken Franklin in “Terminal Velocity,” a 25-minute film shown last weekend at the International Wildlife Film Festival in Bozeman. After 30 years of field study and training, Franklin was able to persuade a peregrine to fly along side a skydiver in freefall. Norman Kent dove with a slow motion camera on his head, matching the peregrine’s speed. The result-extraordinary images that allow the viewer to look into the eye of a falcon as it dives.
The wildlife films were shown on the eve of the Bridger Raptor Festival, the annual fund-raiser for Montana Outdoor Science School and Montana Raptor Conservation Center. Produced in partnership with the Gallatin National Forest and Bridger Bowl Ski Area, the two-day festival attracts hundreds of outdoor enthusiasts with displays, lectures and presentations on raptor identification, ecology and migration of 17 different species.
Steve Hoffman, whose day job is a sale consultant to a local car dealership, led hikes both days to the ridgetop to observe the mass migration. The hike, on a good trail but with a 2,000-foot gain, was daunting for one with a dodgy hip, so I had to be content with Hoffman’s PowerPoint presentation showing at least five different views of each species.
Now I know why it’s so hard to tell a peregrine from a prairie falcon. The two views we see most often-bird perched on pole or tree and the underside of bird in flight-don’t tell the whole story. The shape and size of the head, the profile of the wingspan of the bird in flight (v-shaped or straight; wingtips down or up) give better clues. Also, while most raptors are full grown when they fledge, their plumage may not match their parents for two to four years.
Hawkwatch International established one of 16 Rocky Mountain raptor-monitoring sites on the ski area’s helicopter platform in 1991. At that time, more golden eagles had been documented there than at any other site in the country. Bald eagles and ospreys, being the preeminent freshwater fishers of the bird world, are more often found along rivers and lakes.
I was looking for this excursion to inform my efforts at raptor photography, now that I finally have a lens capable of capturing more than a spec in the sky or the blur of an osprey diving to grab a fish swimming too close to the surface. I had just missed such a shot the week before at Hebgen Lake. Standing on the little pier where my granddaughter and her father had just launched their canoe, I was thinking I should put the long lens on my camera when an osprey dove into the water practically at my feet, grabbed a fish in its talons and flew off. I wound up with one shot of the bird’s behind carrying away its prize.
Late last winter, I saw for the first time a rough-legged hawk. Perched atop a cottonwood tree at the edge of the creek behind my daughter’s house, it waited patiently while I carefully focused my camera on it. Then it got spooked by one of the dogs and flew directly toward me, veering away, giving me a great horizontal view, which of course was totally out of focus.
My new Nikon has a program called continuous-servo auto focus, a kind of digital motor drive, that’s perfect for this situation, but unless I have time to switch from manual to auto, etc., well, it’s just going to take me awhile to master the new technology.
And those who hiked to the ridgetop said I missed a great opportunity for golden eagles, and several species of hawks and falcons. I had to be satisfied with shots of a captive Swainson’s hawk and a Great horned owl, both of which had been injured and rehabilitated by Montana Raptor Conservation volunteers. They now are ambassadors for the organization, since wings damaged in altercations with trucks prevent their being returned to the wild. They patiently posed for me on their perches while I focused, adjusted the aperture to put the background out of focus, then turned their heads from side to side, then stared straight at my lens. Bless their little bird hearts.
At least I have some nice shots to take home to my 4-year-old bird lover, who likely will have renewed interest in our resident red tails and the huge white barn owl who took over my grandson’s tree house.