Watch Birds Like a Hawk

And they'll lift you like a breeze

A week ago, I went for a 20 mile mountain bike ride in the Pine Barrens, in the Penn Swamp Branch area outside Batsto Village. It was lonely, but I caught sight of a male Eastern Bluebird, before I scared him off with my squeaky brakes. These birds always fill me with awe, as they are such a vibrant blue that they seem supernatural. This one was nearly robin-size and shy, but his coloration in the distant trees was enough to make me stop and take a breath.

Cooper’s Hawk, 2/1/24 ©Thomas Pluck

That’s the power of birds. It’s easy to mock them; their songs can meld into the background if you let them. Blue Jays and Crows are easy to ignore with their dissonant cries and caws; the trilling and tweeting¹ of Carolina wrens and European Starlings, the pips of sparrows, robins, robins, and cardinals can be missed and forgotten as the little singers hide in the trees. They are begging us to listen, and come to our senses; to relish the moment.

If you’re phone-addicted, I recommend the Merlin app to identify birdsong. It’s free, with no ads, and I was amazed at how it translates a cacophony of chirps into a conversation held above our heads. Experiencing awe is healthy; you don’t need to climb a volcano and peer into the caldera to feel it, but you do have to open your mind to let it in. A few ounces of bluebird can do it, from thirty yards away.

Another morning, I overlooked some robins as they hopped and pecked in the grass of a field. Then one flew a few feet, and I noticed a white vee above their tail. This was no American Robin! I took my monocular and focused in. Four northern flickers were hunting bugs in the grass. I’d never seen them on the ground before! I kept my distance and circled away from them, giving them space as I admired their sharp black beaks, and the red stripes on their faces that make them look like Adam Ant. They are one of the handsomest of the woodpecker family, with their herringbone pattern and daubs of color.

Later the same morning, as I approached the water, I disturbed a male Hooded Merganser who was feeding along the shore. They are shy, but I was lucky to spot a few pairs further away in a pool, using my field glass. Their big heads remind me of women’s short-back ‘80s bouffant haircuts, as they cut through the water. I saw my first female merganser as well; they have the same shape, but lack the Patrick Nagel black and white coloration that makes the males so easy to spot as they bob in the ripples, having brindle camouflage like a female mallard.

Thursday morning, I wanted to go for a hike. I managed a ride on Tuesday on the Gorn, my skinny tire cross-country mountain bike, and my legs were sore. A good hike would stretch them out. I missed a chance to go eagle-watching again with Hannah the Wanderfinder (our trip is documented here) last weekend, and I wanted to take some bird photos, so I packed up my camera for my morning walk at Timber Creek². Before I could get to the car, our cat Louie was crying to be let out, so I opened the back door.

Only to see a juvenile Cooper’s hawk perched in my neighbor’s tree, overlooking my back yard.

Now, Louie weighs upwards of sixteen pounds and has stood his own against large dogs. We had a fully grown hawk visit last year, who might have been big enough to consider Louie, but this one would have likely met a bitter end if they had been desperate enough to swoop on him. It didn’t even consider him, as they scanned the area, back and forth. The squirrels were wary, hugging the trees; the songbirds weren’t quite silent, so I had hopes that my visitor might find a snack.

I took my camera and binoculars and snapped away, approaching carefully to get different angles. They were not skittish. I was able to return to the house for a handful of suet nuggets and scatter them on the roof of my shed, in the hopes of luring them some prey. I like Blue Jays and woodpeckers, and I ensure that Louie isn’t able to stalk them, but a hawk is different. They have those golden eyes. I mean, just look at them:

A Cooper's Hawk looks at itself.

You should be able to zoom in on those, I was about twenty-five feet away at most. These, and the video below, were taken with a Sony CyberShot RX10-IV camera with a 600mm lens at nearly full zoom. I’m very happy with it, but I need to practice steadying my grip.

The hawk graced us for a good ten minutes. The suet lured no birds or squirrels, and the hawk swooped silently into the next yard. I ran to look over the fence, but they were gone by the time I climbed up on our paver wall. I didn’t hear any shrieks or harassment, but shortly after, crows arrived and held court in a treetop, monitoring the situation. The hawk must have moved a few yards down, and that’s not far from the north branch of Timber Creek, where they might find better hunting.

When crows raise a ruckus, it is always worth your attention. We have a mob of crows that hangs out at the nearby park where they can watch for roadkill on the main drag and dropped snacks from parkgoers. I’ve left peanuts for them, as I walk the track at the park, but they don’t seem to care. They’ve got their food sources, and keep their distance. A year ago, I observed crows at Timber Creek harassing a much larger hawk, who I would have missed seeing, if not for the crows. This video is less eventful, but much clearer.

Crows require an investment of time to observe closely. I’ll be taking that time as the weather warms up. I’ve had a Crow Story in my head for a long time, and it’s time to start feeding it.

1. I’m reclaiming that word for the birds now that the Muskrat has renamed his toy.

2. I love that my local creek phonetically resembles Annie Dillard’s famous Tinker Creek. Though I am no pilgrim.