Donna
I'm Falcon Crazy
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« on: 07-Oct-12, 10:37:03 PM » |
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The peregrine falcon was removed from the U.S. Endangered Species list on Aug. 25, 1999.
A Facebook post popped up a few days ago from one of my birding friends who lives on Ocracoke Island, North Carolina. I was stunned for three reasons. First, unlike some of my other virtual friends, this man, Peter Vankevich, seldom posts anything. Second, even though we are a month out from Election Day, the message had no political commentary, which, given that Peter retired to Ocracoke from Washington, D.C., is all the more surprising. And third, Peter and few others had counted in just one morning last week 42 peregrine falcons heading south.
The peregrine falcon may be my favorite bird. It is fast and powerful and sleek and beautiful. Throughout most of my life, it has been exceedingly rare. That my second grade teacher, Becky White, read us Jean Craighead George's novel, My Side of The Mountain, enforced the mystique of the peregrine for me as a young boy. I don't recall the name of the protagonist - a boy who left home to live in the woods as Thoreau had - but, I do recall the name of his bird, Frightful, a peregrine falcon. From second grade on, I kept an eye out for peregrine falcons whenever I went outside. I didn't know this was a foolish dream at the time.
Back in the 1970's, the peregrine population had crashed. The subspecies that once inhabited the eastern seaboard of the United States was virtually extirpated in the region by DDT, illegal shooting and trapping, and poisoning by lead shot. Only a few wild flying peregrine falcons remained along the Atlantic coast. It was truly an endangered species. A wave of environmental laws held out hope for the distant future, if the species could survive the damage already done.
Western subspecies of the peregrine were doing better, and groups began "restocking" historic East Coast falcon habitats with birds from places such as Idaho or Canada. My old friend John Ann Earhardt spent a summer in the late 1980's monitoring reintroduced peregrines in the North Carolina mountains.
The old ways
Long before the Internet gave us instant access to even the most trivial information, birders relied on newsletters and magazines for information about interesting sightings.
I remember reading a report in The Chat, the ornithological journal of the Carolinas, that birders had spotted three migratory peregrine falcons on Bald Head Island during the first week of October. It must have also been in the late 80's. The report probably got to me in March of the following year.
It was too late to chase the birds, but I was glad to hear that these birds once again were funneling down the Atlantic beaches on the way south for the winter. I made a mental note to look for the birds in early October at the coast.
Not long after, I spotted my first peregrine, sitting on a telephone pole along N.C. 12 on Pea Island on our Outer Banks. Okay, maybe I did not spot it; someone else saw first, and told me where to look. It was still exciting.
Other sightings, which over the years since have become frequent, but still not commonplace, have not disappointed.
I have watched a peregrine scare up a flock of thousands of shorebirds in the hope of culling out one for a meal. I have seen the storied "stoop," where a high flying peregrine turns toward earth and sets its wings in a 100 mph dive into a panicked flock of ducks. I have watched one pick out a blackbird out of a flock of 10,000, chase it down, and slam its large yellow feet into its chosen prey with incredible force. I have walked up on one perched low on driftwood on a North Carolina beach and another atop a five-story mound of garbage at the Brownsville, Texas, dump. They are impressive even when they are not moving and even in less than inspiring surroundings.
Not too hard to find
I have now seen peregrines in Fayetteville and Stedman, along the coast, and on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Forty years after being declared a federally endangered species, people young and old no longer have to look 15 years before finding one.
My friend Peter merely had to drive down Ocracoke and sit on a dune overlooking the marsh on the backside of the island. In four hours, he saw more peregrine falcons than once were believed to exist in the eastern U.S.
I called him before finishing this paragraph to make certain he had posted the correct number. He had. He also told me that the next day, his friends had seen 50 additional peregrines making a beeline south. Incredible.
Fayobserver.com
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