Those of us that consider ourselves birders, bird for many reasons. Probably for a variety of reasons actually. Last weekend for example, I ruined a perfectly good long weekend by spending 2 days chasing a hawk that belonged on the other side of the country. Many hours of driving dusty roads and pulling off to stand for more hours in the cold while staring into the sky and bare trees. Fake views that turned out to be very common hawks, getting caught up in the chase and driving down country roads in a caravan of panicked birders, after more fake news.
I realize that is not one of the many reasons I bird but in fairness I was chasing a lifer - a bird I had never seen before - so was willing to make some sacrifices. Adding birds to the numerous lists I keep is part of why I bird. I compete (mostly) with myself to get the highest number of birds for a given period of time and set myself targets every January that I know are seemingly impossible but because I bird also to escape from the world, I end up overachieving those targets. A sad state of affairs really.
Did I forget to mention the thrill of chase though? Chasing after a much sought-after bird is exciting, adrenaline-pumping and if you catch up with the bird, downright magical. For me, the crazy chasing experience is greatly enhanced with a special friend by my side. Somedays you win and a lot of those days, you don't. Somedays however, everything comes together in a dark sandpit and ends in a puff of smoke.
After an exhausting week both from a work and political point of view, I was ready to embrace this weekend and the bitterly cold forecast to get a few local year birds on my list. Breathlessly I watched for news of the lost hawk and it was sighted every day during the week so made plans to drive down to once again look for it, plans for local birding once again put on the backburner. A friend was also keen (the same poor friend that spent an entire day last week with me unsuccessfully searching for the bird) so we agreed to meet up at 8:30am under some trees. I got there early, had a good phone call with one of my sisters and checked the message boards for news on the hawk, while I watched the wind whip dust all over the black fields. Today was the chilliest day of the winter and although there was no precipitation, the wind was icy and brought the temperature down to well below zero.
My friend arrived and we had a good catch up about the drive, the weather and my new number plates. While we were still pulling on extra jackets and agreeing on which roads to tackle first, a friendly gentleman from Long Island (I never got his name so will call him Frank for the rest of my story) stopped to chat and ask if we had heard any news. I could share with him that in this case no news was bad news and which roads to check out. A white sedan came hurtling around the corner and came to a rather sudden pause next to us and the driver shouted that the hawk had been seen in the next road up from us. In a scene from The Big Year, the tiny hatchback from LI and two Subarus (who were sans drivers at the time they heard the news) scrambled to tuck in behind the white sedan and race off to the main road. Within seconds my friend and I were in our cars, had executed the perfect u-turn and were right on the hatchback's tail. One block down and we had "changed vegetables" (from Celery Avenue to Onion Avenue) and were trying to keep to the speed limit between the houses that lined the roads. Soon we arrived where two cars were pulled off. The four of us tucked in nicely off the road and leapt out of our vehicles. I made a mad grab for my camera on the seat next to me and thankfully connected with it, fingers automatically gripping and lifting. A rather elegant exit from the car considering the layers of clothes I was wearing and the size of my snow boots.
I looked around and saw Frank looking upwards and taking photographs with his big camera and long lens. I instinctively grabbed my binoculars and followed his line. There in the sky was a huge hawk. It had pale underparts. Long straight wings - the size of eagle wings - but they didn't seem to be too out of sorts with the size of the body. Small head. Tail seemed shortish but at the time I can't recall making a mental note of that. A Ferruginous Hawk in all its glory! I let my binoculars drop and raised my camera as the bird circled overhead. It started to head towards the sun... a death shot for any kind of photograph. I held my breath to prevent my viewfinder from fogging up (wearing a mask has a few downsides), clicked on the auto-focus and started shooting. I managed 34 photos in 20 seconds. The hawk flew off into the sun.
Just before he drove off, we shouted our thanks to the driver that had alerted us to the sighting. A groan from the front of my car drew our attention to Frank, who realized that in his haste to tackle the 3+ hour journey this morning, he had left his camera's SD card behind in his computer at home. Frank did not get a single photo of the hawk but honestly to me he did not look terribly disappointed as I could see the smile on his face behind his 3-ply surgical mask. The white sedan paused briefly and we once again thanked "Frank #2" who was thrilled to hear it was a lifer for my friend and I. He drove off chase the bird again. The three of us that remained chatted in a shared moment of excitement about the bird, how lucky we got, where my accent was from, where my friend grew up, where Frank lived and how far he had travelled.
The shared moments after a great sighting have always added to my pleasure of the birding experience. Last year when I saw a lifer on my own and without my camera, it felt as if I had been cheated. Today was not like that day. I had two friends to share it with.
For more information on the Ferruginous Hawk, check out this Wikipedia page:
PS. For an added bonus, a few minutes later we got swept up in another convoy, headed to another dusty road also named after a veggie but the views were distant and not nearly as great at the ones we had earlier. My friend and I headed north to search for an eagle. I cover that adventure in part 2.
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