Sharing the Road with Red-Tailed Hawks on the Hunt

                                 


I’ve had to make more than the usual number of trips to Portland lately,  and I've noticed a large number of red-tailed hawks hunting the margins of the road.  Some of these raptors are residents, and some are moving through, heading farther south for the winter.  Red-tailed hawks  are very variable in coloration, running from tan to almost black.  Most commonly though, they are a rich brown and from the front, you will see a thickish dark 'necklace' on lighter breast to belly feathers.  And of course, a brick-red tail on adults.

Highway 26 has become incredibly busy as development  moves from  Beaverton, Hillsboro, North Plains and on westward.  I always watch for  the red-tailed hawks that are commonly found sitting hunkered on the big overhanging light supports along the road.  They like to hunt the wide flat fields, so start looking once the road leaves the mountains and flattens out. The birds may even clutch the power line in massive claws, teetering back and forth - not a very fierce and dignified hawk posture.  But these are excellent lookouts  for  meals.  The grassy median and the roadsides are a great place for mice and voles.  The hawks can see the slightest movement below them, even with all the wind movement from the traffic. They launch downward with great concentration and speed to grasp their prey with strong talons.  If you see this happening, watch for the next thing - keeping one eye on the road, of course.  Once the prey is secured, the hawk will spread her wings out and forward on either side of the unlucky catch.  This is called 'mantling' and from the fierce look-around by the hawk that accompanies this action, I'd say it's a serious warning for other predators to back off.

It's getting trickier for raptors to navigate Highway 26 these days.  There are more lanes, faster traffic, bigger trucks.  The hawk has to time her swoop for a meal so that she isn't falling directly into the path of a car traveling at 60-plus mph.  Sadly, some don't time it so well, but  I see very few road-killed hawks along 26.   I credit their sublime ability to move in the air, to gauge distance and speed.   More often, they're seen pulling off tasty bits of lunch as traffic roars by in both directions.

Hawks will feed just feet from the road and traffic.  I'm sure if you stopped to get out, that bird would fly with its prey, but they must not see the flow of traffic as a threat.    A female hawk will fly up and away with her captured meal to take to her nest to feed young.   This is fun to watch when a big long snake is the prey and the hawk flies, snake twisting and dangling,  over a convertible.

When you drive 26 or other roads,  be on the lookout in the distance and you may be able to enjoy seeing wild nature at work during rush hour.

It's Time to Watch for Snowies

As I looked out our windows the past few days, I wouldn't have been a bit surprised to see a snowy owl perched on a snag, gazing out with yellow cat eyes over the snowy expanse of our side yard.  This is snowy owl weather, and reports are beginning to come in that these owls from the far north are starting to drop down into 'warmer' territory.  It may be because of the pressure of too many owls (a good thing in a way) that pushes owls down to us.  It may be harsher than usual weather up north.  There are lots of theories but the important thing is to enjoy them while they're with us.

Snowies prefer open, grassy fields where they  hunt mice.  A snowy will appear as a short, squat, white shape on the edge of an open field, usually perched low.   Young birds will be mottled brownish, but still mainly white. Adults are the purist white imaginable.  They hunt by sitting motionless for hours, watching for movement in the field.  When a hapless field mouse or other prey is spotted,  in utter silence the owl will swoop out and down, taking the catch in powerful talons.

I watched a snowy owl who had been perched for some time on a low snag, motionless except for the slow blink of amber eyes.  A flock of red-necked phalaropes, small shorebirds who also winter with us, gradually drew closer and closer to the still hunter.  Finally the flock, still busily feeding, was no more than twenty feet from where the owl sat.   When he made his move, his lift-off was effortless.  Huge white wings unfolded and long feathered legs pushed him from the snag.  He angled over the now-panicked flock, talons extended, and easily grabbed an unlucky shorebird.  Almost casually he arced back to the snag, where feathers blew away in the icy breeze as he ate his catch.

Snowy owls showed up in Ocean Park last year.  One bird spent the night on the eaves of a friend's house right in town.  One snowy was seen at the Ocean Park approach to the beach.  He was quietly perched near the dunes in plain sight, but few of the people on the beach seemed to notice him.  Nature is all around us, but we often do not see the unexpected.  That's one of the lures of nature for me: to have the gift of such wildness so near us.

On another front,  it's been a busy few days feeding and watering the local bird crew.  Even the lake outlet is frozen over, so the small birds need water as well as food.   Little black-hooded juncoes, chickadees, towhees and even a few red-winged blackbirds have appeared on the deck, looking for a handout.  Shelled sunflower seed is quite popular, and a shallow plastic bowl of warm water is much appreciated.  These birds survive - or don't - without us.  Some will fall prey to the cold and stress, especially birds that were hatched this year.  They don't have all the survival skills lined up yet.  I found a beautiful female orange and brown varied thrush this morning.  She was actually still warm, but had sadly succumbed to the cold.
If throwing a handful of seed outside a few times a day can save one or two young birds, I'm all for it.  And the payback is to see them skittering along on the slippery ice,  fluffy and optimistic in the wintry sun.