Broad-winged Hawk

Broad-winged Hawks reach their peak migration between September 10 and September 20. In anticipation of potentially seeing hundreds of hawks in a single day, hawk watchers have crowded Putney Mountain this week. As of mid-week when I wrote this, they have not been disappointed.

Buteos are the genus of hawks characterized by their broad wings, short tails, and soaring ability. The Broad-winged Hawk is our smallest buteo, with a body length of 15 inches, wing span of 34 inches, and weight of 14 ounces. By contrast, the familiar roadside hawk, the Red-tailed Hawk has a length of 19 inches, wing span of 49 inches, and weight of 2.4 pounds. (Measurements are from Sibley’s Guide and are approximate.)

The Broad-winged Hawk is a forest species that seldom draws attention to itself and often goes unnoticed unless someone knows it and searches for it. Its cousin, the Red-tailed Hawk was often known as the hen hawk for its opportunistic taking of farmyard birds. The Broad-winged never acquired such a nick-name because it rarely troubled with the farmer’s poultry or pigeons.

In spring migration and summer breeding, the Broad-winged can be completely over-looked, although the attentive person may hear its thin piercing whistle, “eeh-eeeeeeee.” Then it is time to look high. “In warm summer weather it frequently soars to great heights with widely extended and almost motionless wings ... Possibly no hawk ascends higher in the heavens than this rather small, inconspicuous species. Its broad, ample ‘clubbed’ wings, which name the bird so aptly when they are well seen, often make this hawk seem larger than it really it.” (Forbush)

As inconspicuous as the Broad-winged Hawk is during the summer, at the right place and right time during September it is the dominant hawk species. The birds lift out of their Northeastern woodlands and begin their journey south. They will travel thousands of miles.

A single bird rises above the forest canopy. Its hawk eyes see another bird circling upward, the second bird having found rising warm air. The first bird joins the second, then a third joins the two, then a fourth. And so it goes, the birds gathering, not as a flock for safety, but as a loose group taking advantage of the same flying conditions - rising thermals, ridge-line updrafts, and favorable winds. With good conditions, a Broad-winged Hawk is capable of traveling a couple of hundred miles in a day with barely a wingbeat.

Putney Mountain is one of those places where the conditions are often favorable. On a good day five hundred, or even a thousand, broadies might be seen. In comparison to some eastern watch sites, those numbers are not so impressive. Places like Duluth, Minnesota, Hamilton, Ontario, Hawk Mountain in Pennsylvania, and (erratically) some mountains in Massachusetts, can have single day numbers in the thousands, or even tens of thousands. As the flyways converge in Corpus Christie, Texas or Veracruz, Mexico, the numbers can swell to hundreds of thousands.

The visiting “hawk snob” from some other “bigger and better” site might be disappointed with “only” five hundred Broad-winged Hawks in a day. But I have yet to hear any local hawk watcher on Putney Mountain who is disappointed with such numbers. When these inconspicuous forest hawks begin streaming over the ridge, or circling up by the dozens, there is excitement. There is wonderment. Where did they all come from? And of course, there is the puzzle: where are they going?

There is some good research about where the Broad-winged Hawks are going, and the impressive travels they undertake in the going and coming. The short answer is that the broadies are headed to the tropics - Central and South America.

Research has shown that the journey of the Broad-winged Hawk is as spectacular as its numbers in migration. Five adult females were fitted with radio tags at their nesting locations in north-central Minnesota and western Maryland in the Spring, 2000. With satellite telemetry, the hawks could be tracked for many months and thousands of miles. With luck, every zig-zag in their route could be tracked, where it stopped, for how long it stopped, and where migration ended.

Four of the adult female Broad-winged Hawks were tracked along their entire fall migration route. The fifth was out of contact until the next spring when she was halfway through her migration back to Minnesota.

The other four left their breeding grounds in September. They followed the expected path south, “converging in Texas, following the Gulf Coast into Mexico, passing over the famous hawkwatch in Veracruz, and taking an inland course through Central America.” One bird stopped in Panama and wintered there. Three continued to Colombia where one veered east into Venezuela. The other two traveled south of the equator and wintered in southwestern Brazil and southern Peru.

The radio tagged Broad-winged Hawks traveled between 3,500 and 4,800 miles. Daily travel was 50 to 75 miles per day. They reached their wintering areas between October 15 and December 15.

“Because of radio failures, only one bird could be tracked completely during its spring migration northward.” She flew 4,878 miles in 74 days from Peru to Maryland, where she arrived on May 22 at the same nesting location from which she had departed eight months earlier. Her total round trip was about 9,700 miles.

Yet another question often asked about Broad-winged Hawks is: What do they eat along the way? A more precise question would be: Do they eat on their migratory journey? On Putney Mountain, we occasionally see a low flying Broad-winged with a full crop, clear evidence that it has eaten recently. This week I have watched several Broad-winged Hawks stoop into the tree tops just below the ridge, as though they were diving after possible prey. But as the migrating hawks concentrate in Texas and Mexico into the hundreds of thousands (even millions), is there enough food? Or do they “fast” for a portion of their journey? I have yet to find research which addresses this question. So ... when there are no hawks to watch on Putney Mountain, we can discuss this question without having to worry about facts.

Good Birding!

Information for this column and quotations are from “Tracking Hawks’ Migration Patterns” by Paul Hess in “Birding”, October, 2004.

September 16 on Putney Mountain

The regulars at the Putney Mountain Hawk Watch have been anticipating this day. One of our group, Woodcarver Phil, has been making guarantees to people about the number of hawks they would see on September 16. Phil looked at the count numbers for the last several years and noticed that the counts were very good on Sept 16 except when the day was rained out. And BTW, one of my regular readers, Frank at The Early Bird, also looked up the records on line and has been wondering if the 16th would hold to the pattern. He commented on the previous post.

There were a lot of people on the mountain to watch hawks today. It felt like October. It was gray, overcast, and raw. By all conventional wisdom, it was not a good day for Broad-winged Hawks to be flying. They need sun to create thermals for lift and gentle winds so they can stream south. But the weather reports called for clearing in the afternoon, so about two dozen people were on the ridge when I arrived about 11:00am.

The regulars were anticipating that disappointed visitors would be angry about an empty guarantee, and maybe do something about it - such as throwing Phil over the side of the ridge - we are very supportive of one another.

As soon as I arrived on the ridge, I put up my binoculars to see what everyone was looking at. There was a kettle of 20+ broadies. They had just begun flying, and for the next hour, against a dull gray sky, we went from kettle, to kettle, to kettle, or from stream of hawks to stream of hawks, with hardly a moment to catch the breath. Phil had "guaranteed" that people would see 500 broadies on the 16th. Between 11 and 12, 650 hawks were counted.

I took this photo of Phil at around noon time. Before I took the picture, I asked him to give me a smug look - though the question was unnecessary. In spite of all conventional wisdom about making predictions to anybody about what birds will be seen (much less a guarantee), Phil was dead-on right.

The numbers climbed more slowly after the noon hour, and I haven't gotten the final tally, but I am sure it will push, or exceed, 1000 - on a day that was lousy for flying. For Putney Mountain, that is an excellent day. The counters at this hawk watch "count" the birds, but several times the birds were so numerous that estimates had to be made.

As a group, we are very cautious, and very conservative, when counting, and even more so when estimating.

It was not a good day for photography, with poor light, and birds too high for the camera, but not for the eye. Here is one photograph of a portion of one kettle - there were birds that had already streamed out of this kettle -others that were still rising up - and yet others that were fading into or out of the clouds. I count 27 birds in the photograph.

Is it even necessary to say, good birding!

Tuesday - Putney Mountain

Tuesday at the Putney Mountain Hawk Watch was a day of eye strain, with most hawks only distant specks. A good viewing sky helped, but it was nothing like the two previous days when most hawks were relatively low and close. But we still tallied over 280 migrants.

It's always fun when school groups visit the watch, and these kids were fortunate to see some of the low flyers. anything we can do to encourage the next generation of bird watchers is worth the effort ... and the enthusiasm of many of the kids is infectious.

The hawks may have been high, but the ravens were playing along the ridge, and that is always fun to watch.

This juvenile Cooper's Hawk was one bird that came low and provided a good look at all of the features which distinguish it from the other accipiters - large head, arthritic wing beat, rounded tail ...

Finally ... our resident Red-tailed Hawk wandering along the ridge in the late afternoon (rather flat wings with up-turned fingers at the wing-tips) ...

Good birding!

Today's Hawks on Putney Mountain

It was another good hawk day at the Putney Mountain Hawk Watch. By the time I left at 2pm, the totals were approaching 500. As of this posting, I have not received an e-mail with the final numbers, proably because a few watchers remained into the early evening hours and have not yet reported.

There were few "tourists" today, but a dozen or more watchers.

Broad-winged Hawks dominated, as expected this time of year. My column this week will be on the broadies, so I will save the photos until Saturday's posting. The birds were flying at a much higher elevation today than yesterday, but enough were at a lower height to provide detailed looks ... as, for example, this juvenile Sharp-shinned Hawk ...

... perhaps immodest, but that is probably the best photo of a sharpie that I have managed (to date).

There is no doubt that we have a resident adult Red-tailed Hawk (or two). We do not begin counting the "tails" as migrants until later in the month, but some think an exception should be made for the juveniles who certainly do a lot of wandering, usually in a southerly direction. This juvenile, however, seemed to be hanging around most of the day ...

... Red-shouldered Hawks are uncommon in our northern woods (though some reports this year suggest more nests than usual). We do not see many during the hawk count, but this one was an exception. We've had a number of good sightings of "shoulders" this year, perhaps the same bird. This one gave us some of the best looks we've had - usually the "shoulders" are mixed with other birds, or very distant. When one suddenly pops out of the valley, it brings oohs and aahs ...

When not totally preoccupied with hawks, we also count monarchs. Numbers seem to be down significantly this year, but a few do make their way across the ridge.

I hope your birding has been good - or at least, that your day on balance has been positive!

Cedar Waxwings - Putney Mountain

Tomorrow is my day to be the "official" counter on Putney Mountain, so I had the leisure early in the morning to check out the songbirds. There was not a great deal of songbird activity, but I stumbled on a family of Cedar Waxwings. These birds are common on the ridge in September, but this family was a very young family. I begin with one of the parents ...

... in a nearby tree, perched two reasons for his/her "scowl" - two recently fledged young waxwings ...


They waited patiently until they heard the buzzy approach of their parent, then became very agitated ... and hungry ...

The parent was able to satisfy, or at least feed, the gaping mouths of each fledgling in turn.

Good birding!

Sunday Hawk Watch

With the weather clearing this morning, hawk watchers flocked to Putney Mountain in anticipation of a good flight, scouring the skies for hawks.

We were not disappointed. By the end of the day, 689 migrating hawks had been counted, including 528 Broad-winged Hawks and 125 Sharp-shinned Hawks (an unusually high number of sharpies for so early in the season). Plus there were Red-tailed Hawks wandering the ridge (we don't usually consider them migrants until late September) and Turkey Vultures going, north, then south, then north.

The most recent issue of Birding has an article about "Molt in Raptors on Active Migration." Today's hawks were low, affording good views, and the opportunity to note various stages of molt, as is especially evident on the tail feathers of the broadies in these next two photos.
Both birds are adults, but molt was also evident in young birds. In some cases, missing primaries made for a very ragged appearance.


This young sharpie seems to be checking out the hawk watchers below, just as they are checking her out up above (probably her - the bird seemed large).

Only one eagle today - this young Bald Eagle (probably a first year bird) flew north, perhaps looking for someone to feed it or tell it what to do. Eventually it flew south.

In addition to the regular hawk watchers, there were many other visitors. They were treated to a day of very good hawk watching, with "eye birds" often flying quite low over the ridge.

Good birding!

Hawk Eyes

A number of years ago, a local naturalist, and licensed hawk bander, set up a small hawk banding station near a private residence along the Putney ridge. Several times I sat with him in the crude wooden blind which hid us from the eyes of passing hawks. The blind did nothing to stave off the cold fall air, and little to break the wind which made it feel even colder. The tiny shed was also the hawk bander’s office, with strings of numbered bands, pliers to pinch them around a leg, rulers and scales to measure and weigh, and clip boards to record data.

In the open area in front of the blind, spring nets and mist nets were set strategically around the lure birds, a harnassed English Sparrow, and Rock Pigeon. (As a note, lure birds are restricted to the two mentioned, and the European Starling, all invasive exotics species. They are changed often during the day, and rarely injured.) Lines from the lure birds led back to the blind so that the bander could keep them moving and draw the attention of a passing hawk.

One late morning on a cool October day, I sat in the blind with the bander. We scanned the sky with our binoculars. “Hawk,” I heard next to me. I picked up the bird, a distant pepper speck through my binoculars, at the far edge of magnified visibility. For the experienced eyes next to me, it was enough for him to say, “Red-tail.”

The Red-tailed Hawk is a sizable bird, weighing over two pounds and with a four foot wing-span. Among the hawks we are most likely to see in southeastern Vermont, only the Bald Eagle and Osprey are larger. Researchers have estimated that a Red-tailed Hawk can be seen with binoculars at a distance of about one and a half miles.

The Red-tail we were on was flying southwest, using the updraft along the Putney Ridge for lift and to propel it with a minimum expense of energy. As we followed the hawk with binoculars, the lure pigeon was stirred into movement. It fluttered up from the ground, then settled again.

It was enough movement. From the distance of over one mile, the Red-tail saw the movement. The hawk mind said injured bird, easy meal. The flight course altered, and the hawk came in, straight and fast. It hit the pigeon, then was entangled in the spring net. Quickly we retrieved the bird and went through the banding procedure.

Some ten years ago, and I still remember how that distant hawk saw a small movement, changed course, and came directly and rapidly in on that pigeon.

Hawk eyes. Vision we can’t even imagine. Attuned and aware of movement to a degree that, if humans ever had it, we have long since lost it.

My naturalist and hawk banding friend was also a falconer. His falconry bird was a Red-tailed Hawk. One cold day in early December, I went out with him when he flew his hawk. The usual procedure was to release the hawk, then twirl meat on a line so that the hawk would come to his gloved hand for the food.

The hawk perched on a power line, and we began walking toward the middle of the grassy, partially snow-covered, field, putting some distance between us and the hawk. But the hawk was impatience and suddenly flew quickly to the ground near us. We went to where the Red-tail was standing on the thick, matted grass. My friend scraped through the tangled mat, and found that the hawk was holding a field mouse immobile under the grass.

Hawk eyes. From several tens of yards distance, the hawk detected movement beneath the grass and pounced.

The mid-flight shift which I observed at the banding station was an exception for the Red-tailed Hawk. It much prefers to sit motionless on a dead limb, or a tall tree in a pasture or field, or at the edge of woods. It turns its head slowly, the motion almost imperceptible. But it can see movement, a blade of grass stirred slightly, then another near it, as a mouse moves a tad carelessly out of sight. And it pounces.

You see their white breast, or their dark erect posture, perched along the interstates. Some stretches of highway in the winter have hawks every few miles, taking advantage of the long, narrow grasslands which modern transportation has created. Waiting, hawk eyes intent for an imperceptible movement that means food.

Or they perch on a building near a city park, as do Central Park Red-tailed Hawks in New York City, looking for the pigeon that is slower, or younger, or under-fed, or slightly injured, or looking the wrong way ... then they fly ... and pounce.

One winter when the Retreat Meadows were frozen, but before the snows had come, my attention was caught by something on the ice not far from the canoe launch on Route 30. A large Cooper’s Hawk, an adult female, perched atop a prone pigeon. Red stained the ice beneath the bird; it was lifeless. But the Cooper’s Hawk was not feeding. It stood erect and alert. It hopped from the pigeon to the ice. Then it flew. From the opposite direction that the Cooper’s flew, a Red-tail came in, pouncing on the dead pigeon. It stood for a moment, then it grasped the pigeon in its talons and flew off. The two pound Red-tail would feed heartily on the three quarter pound pigeon. The one pound Cooper’s would have to hunt again.

I wonder from how far away the Red-tailed Hawk had seen the Cooper’s Hawk take its prey and decided there were easy pickings.

The Red-tailed Hawk can hunt by hovering and stooping, or by swooping and grabbing. But it prefers the perch and pounce method. It is an energy efficient means of hunting. Especially in the cold weather when so many calories are needed just to stay warm, this wait and strike technique makes the calories from a field mouse go farther. In the hawk’s economy, larger prey means more calories for the same pounce expenditure. And if a Cooper’s has already killed the prey, then that is all the more efficient.

Hawk eyes. The term is used of a person who seems to have especially good eyesight and is capable of seeing things other people miss. But even the best human vision pales before the birds. Here is just one tidbit from scientists: “The acuity of avian eyesight is unparalleled among vertebrates: On average, birds can see two to three times more sharply than humans, and some raptors can sight small prey more than a mile away.” A brief summary of this science is in “Sibley’s Guide to Bird Life and Behavior.” You can get the book and read it for yourself.

Right now, I am going to go watch hawks migrating, although they will probably be watching me long before I will be able to see them.

Good birding!

Hawk Migration Underway

Tuesday is my day as official counter on Putney Mountain; it was the first day in this season that the count exceeded 100 birds. Most birds were very high, pepper specks against the sky, so no photos. This hatch year Sharp-shinned Hawk was photographed last week.

John Anderson and Don Clark were with me for the day, providing good company during the slow morning and good eyes during the afternoon when birds were often at the limits of binoculars.

Early in the morning is often a good time for songbirds as they drop down from their night flight and are busy feeding. Highlight for me was my first Wilson's Warbler for the year which Don alerted me to ...

Wilson's Warbler is uncommon in the East, and nests much further north than my usual birding area. It may (or may not) be seen during migration. This gentleman was very cooperative; a few phishs, and he popped right into the open ...

Good birding!

Baffled

There is no fool-proof way to keep squirrels out of feeders (they are smarter than we are), but I've come close. The 4x4" post is over 12 feet from the nearest place from which a squirrel can jump. Then there is a simple piece of stove pipe. One winter a squirrel managed to reach the feeder, but the snow pack was 3 ft, so it just jumped over the 30" stove pipe.

But this guy is clearly baffled by it ...


He quickly headed up the apple tree - too far to jump to the feeder, but he did not need to, what with the apples. And he put on a considerable show of agility and acrobatism (a word?) ...

My certainty that Red-bellied Woodpeckers were nesting somewhere nearby was finally confirmed by the presence of this juvenile at the feeders. He's wary, like his parents, but returns regularly ...

And finally, second broods are coming by, including downies, cardinals, and grosbeaks. Although not evident from this angle, this is a young Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Other photos I took show its young age, but I liked the pose and color in this shot ...



Good birding!

A Hawk Watch Glossary

The Putney Mountain Hawk Watch got underway this week. During September and October there will be at least one volunteer counter on the Putney ridge every day except when it is raining. If you can make it up, you will certainly be welcome. If the watchers are not busy watching hawks, they will be happy to talk with you about hawks, which is not always the case at many other hawk watch sites.

Specialty pursuits have their own vocabulary. Banking and finance, for example, have points, collateral, and arbitrage. Law enforcement has APBs, and perps. Preachers are among the most arcane with their hermeneutics, eschatology, and exegesis. Medicine is so full of specialty vocabulary that I can’t even begin.

Hawk watching is no different. Like all specialty pursuits, it has its own vocabulary. So if you visit Putney Mountain this fall, it might be helpful to have a primer on the jargon.

Let’s begin with “bird.” When a hawk watcher is staring intently at the sky and says, “Bird,” that means - “Pay attention everyone, there is a hawk up there, too far off to identify yet, so get on it and let’s see who’s right first.”

They certainly don’t mean just any bird. Song birds passing through are of interest and may be identified, such as jay, waxwing, woodpecker, or goldfinch. Sometimes those small songbirds will simply be called “food bird” as they fly across the ridge top clearing, a reminder to visitors at the hawk watch site that many passing hawks feed on song birds.

“Bird” will also abruptly interrupt any current conversation you may be having with any hawk watcher in mid-syllable as they turn their attention to reason they sit on the ridge for hours at a time.

An “Eye bird” is a bird which should be visible without the use of binoculars, if you have good eyesight, or an up-to-date eye glass prescription. Even so, you still may have to search for it, especially against a terrible blue sky.

Cops “tail” a suspect. Crude young men hope to get some. At a hawk watch site, “tail” means Red-tailed Hawk, a large buteo. Like all buteos, it has broad wings which allows it to ride the air currents and up-drafts, or hover (“kite”) in one spot while it searches for food. Resident Red-tailed Hawks are often seen during September wandering along the ridge. They are seen as migrants in mid to late October. Often the biggest migration of “tails” is in November, though impending winter weather often keeps all but the most hardy hawk watchers off the mountain.

“Broadie” will alert you to the Broad-winged Hawk which migrates in the greatest numbers. On Putney Mountain there are always a few times in mid-September when hundreds of broadies are counted in a day, hence the term is typically spoken as a plural. Note that this verbal shorthand for Broad-winged Hawk is always said with the “ie” attached. Most hawk watchers are male geezers who have long since learned not to risk saying something like, “Look at all the broads.” They are also at the stage in life where a Broad-winged Hawk is more exciting anyway.

The Broad-winged Hawk is the smallest buteo; it is on its way home to the tropics, somewhere in southern Central America and South America. It journeys thousands of miles by forming “kettles,” rising up on “thermals,” then “streaming” off to the next thermal, often traveling many miles with scarcely a wingbeat.

“Themals” are rising warm air which might form over parking lots, fields, a rocky ridge, or anywhere else where conditions warm the air more in one spot than another. This rising air gives a free lift to the broadies. They form “kettles” of half a dozen to several hundred birds, circling upward on the warm air, the way bubbles might rise in a boiling kettle on the stove top. When they reach the top of the thermal where the warm air is beginning to disperse, they look southward to see where the next warm air mass is forming and “stream” off. Or they “stream” off until they encounter the next thermal, get their next uplift, and so continue.

A “shoulder” is a Red-shouldered Hawk, a buteo intermediate in size between the Red-tail and the Broad-winged. Uncommon in the north, it often has to be studied, or picked out, from among many other migrating hawks.

The accipiters are short-winged, long-tailed hawks, features which allow them to maneuver through the forest in pursuit of prey, often birds. They are often called the bird hawks. Hawk watchers announce the accipiters with abbreviations of their names. And so, a “sharpie” is a Sharp-shinned Hawk, the smallest accipiter. A “coops” is a Cooper’s Hawk. And a “gos” is a Northern Goshawk, not to be confused with a “gas hawk,” which is a passing airplane.

Falcons are fast flying birds with pointed wings. The American Kestrel, our smallest falcon and arguably the most beautiful of the hawks, is simply “kestrel.” The “P bird” is the Peregrine Falcon, back from the brink of extinction, and always a cause for excitement.

Occasionally someone on Putney Mountain will exclaim, “What was that bird?” Then you know that a Merlin just went through. Along the ridges, our third falcon typically flies low and fast along the ridge. It is here and gone with breathless speed.

The “O bird” is the Osprey. It flies with its long wings held in the shape of a capital “M,” so it is sometimes referred to as the “Flying M,” less rarely as the “Arches,” (as in the Golden Arches). Some hawk watchers think the wings look like a “W” rather than “M,” but there is a deep-seated aversion to referring to the Osprey as “W” - just too many negative overtones for conservationally-minded hawk watchers. The Osprey is also known as the “Alma bird,” because it is the favorite hawk of Putney Mountain’s hawk watch matriarch.

A “Flying Marshmellow” refers to a Northern Harrier with its prominent white rump patch which is visible at great distance. “Eagle” is always Bald Eagle and creates plenty of excitement, while “Golden” means Golden Eagle and generates euphoric excitement.

Hawk Watchers enjoy watching the “TV,” Turkey Vulture and are anticipating a few more “Blacks,” meaning the Black Vulture, a southern species which is extending its range northward, and in the fall must then migrate southward.

So now you know what the hawk watchers are talking about when they’re watching hawks. It is important that you know what they are talking about, because a lot of the time ... maybe I better not go there.

Good birding!