hiker or runner who finds him or herself on the wrong trail at the wrong time. A neighbor who lived a quarter mile or so down the road from us had achieved local celebrity status by having his head bloodied several times, events he would recount with a grin and a good-natured shrug.
As it turned out, the birds were northern goshawks.
Goshawks, along with Cooperâs and sharp-shinned hawks, are members of the accipiter family, a group of long-tailed, short-winged forest dwellers who prey mostly on other birds. Coops and sharpies can be the bane of a songbird loverâs existence; no dopes, they will occasionally set up shop around a busy bird feeder and simply pick off the songbirds when they appear. Goshawks, onthe other hand, avoid developed areas, preferring uninhabited dense woods. Evidently the goshawks figure theyâll stay away from peopleâs houses as long as people stay away from their woods. But people inevitably fail to live up to this bargain, and the trouble begins.
I knew approximately where their nest was located, so when I went for my run that morning I decided to try to find it. I spotted the large nest, the product of years of additions and renovations, wedged in firmly near the top of a dying hemlock tree forty yards or so from the trail. Woolly adelgids, aphid-like insects unwittingly imported from Japan and first discovered in the United States in 1985, have all but destroyed the hemlocks in much of the East, turning dense green forests into areas so blighted they look like the scene of a forest fire. The goshawksâ territory was still filled with healthy oak, maple, walnut, and birch, but the area surrounding their nest was mostly dead and dying hemlock. Although the trees that once gave them a thick curtain of privacy were now crumbling around them, the goshawks were unwilling to abandon the nest they had used for so many years.
The nest was there, but its occupants were not. I scanned the trees, found nothing, and started to resume my run. I had taken only a few steps when I heard a ringing cry, ascending in pitch and momentum, that silenced the other sounds of the forest: kek-kek-kek-kek-kek-kek!
It was a sound so wild, so stirring, yet so viscerally fear-inspiring that I stopped in my tracks. Those who believe that humans have no trace of wilderness left in their veins should listen to the cry of an angry goshawk, which can instantly reduce the smug descendants of thousands of years of civilization to small, trembling prey. I searched but could not find the source, and I didnât hear the cry again. Finally, knowing I was being watched, I headed for home.
While most peopleâs protective instincts are aroused by cuddly creatures such as puppies and ducklings, mine are also triggered by homicidal raptors with records of assault. Although I wanted to go back to the nesting area the next day, I knew that the female would be sitting on eggs and shouldnât be disturbed. I marked out a month on my calendar; I would return when the eggs had hatched.
In the extra bathroom, the house finchâs wound was healing, and the robin who had lost the bird fight was eating like a prize hog and biting me whenever he had the opportunity. The young redtail had gone off to the Long Island sanctuary, and my first worm delivery had finally arrived.
Most birds eat bugs, so bird rehabilitators must always have bugs on hand. Mealworms come in small, medium, large, and super, the latter being so big that they can actually bite you through your pant leg. Some birds prefer waxworms, which are small, white, soft-bodied grubs that resemble maggots. You can buy a small plastic container of worms at the local pet supermarket for an astronomical amount of money, or you can order them by the thousands from companies such as Grubco or Natureâs Bounty, which charge reasonable rates and will ship them to your door.
I couldnât resist a company with a name like Grubco, so I ordered 1,000 medium
As it turned out, the birds were northern goshawks.
Goshawks, along with Cooperâs and sharp-shinned hawks, are members of the accipiter family, a group of long-tailed, short-winged forest dwellers who prey mostly on other birds. Coops and sharpies can be the bane of a songbird loverâs existence; no dopes, they will occasionally set up shop around a busy bird feeder and simply pick off the songbirds when they appear. Goshawks, onthe other hand, avoid developed areas, preferring uninhabited dense woods. Evidently the goshawks figure theyâll stay away from peopleâs houses as long as people stay away from their woods. But people inevitably fail to live up to this bargain, and the trouble begins.
I knew approximately where their nest was located, so when I went for my run that morning I decided to try to find it. I spotted the large nest, the product of years of additions and renovations, wedged in firmly near the top of a dying hemlock tree forty yards or so from the trail. Woolly adelgids, aphid-like insects unwittingly imported from Japan and first discovered in the United States in 1985, have all but destroyed the hemlocks in much of the East, turning dense green forests into areas so blighted they look like the scene of a forest fire. The goshawksâ territory was still filled with healthy oak, maple, walnut, and birch, but the area surrounding their nest was mostly dead and dying hemlock. Although the trees that once gave them a thick curtain of privacy were now crumbling around them, the goshawks were unwilling to abandon the nest they had used for so many years.
The nest was there, but its occupants were not. I scanned the trees, found nothing, and started to resume my run. I had taken only a few steps when I heard a ringing cry, ascending in pitch and momentum, that silenced the other sounds of the forest: kek-kek-kek-kek-kek-kek!
It was a sound so wild, so stirring, yet so viscerally fear-inspiring that I stopped in my tracks. Those who believe that humans have no trace of wilderness left in their veins should listen to the cry of an angry goshawk, which can instantly reduce the smug descendants of thousands of years of civilization to small, trembling prey. I searched but could not find the source, and I didnât hear the cry again. Finally, knowing I was being watched, I headed for home.
While most peopleâs protective instincts are aroused by cuddly creatures such as puppies and ducklings, mine are also triggered by homicidal raptors with records of assault. Although I wanted to go back to the nesting area the next day, I knew that the female would be sitting on eggs and shouldnât be disturbed. I marked out a month on my calendar; I would return when the eggs had hatched.
In the extra bathroom, the house finchâs wound was healing, and the robin who had lost the bird fight was eating like a prize hog and biting me whenever he had the opportunity. The young redtail had gone off to the Long Island sanctuary, and my first worm delivery had finally arrived.
Most birds eat bugs, so bird rehabilitators must always have bugs on hand. Mealworms come in small, medium, large, and super, the latter being so big that they can actually bite you through your pant leg. Some birds prefer waxworms, which are small, white, soft-bodied grubs that resemble maggots. You can buy a small plastic container of worms at the local pet supermarket for an astronomical amount of money, or you can order them by the thousands from companies such as Grubco or Natureâs Bounty, which charge reasonable rates and will ship them to your door.
I couldnât resist a company with a name like Grubco, so I ordered 1,000 medium
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