The Red-Tailed Hawk.Red - tailed Hawk at Hawk Mountain Sanctuary.
Exclusive Sunday Review Sketch by Dennis Puleston of Brookhaven
ocus on 1 ature
Our Guest writer this week
is Dennis Puleston of Brook-
haven. Dennis really needs no
introduction for you have
enjoyed his previdus articles
on the Woodcock and the
Warblers as well as his excell-
ent weekly sketches.
THE RED - TAILED HAWK
By DENNIS PULESTON
Brookhaven
A few weeks ago, I visited
the woods near my home where
a pair of red - tailed hawks has
nested for the past thirteen
seasons. To my great satisfac-
tion, I could see two large
nestlings, their feathers almost
completely developed, standing
in their stick nest in a tall
pine. Within a very few days
they would be ready to launch
themselves on uncertain wings
into the winds that would be
their principal home for the
remainder of their lives.
I like to believe that these
broods I have watched each
spring have all been produced by
the same pair of redtails. If this
is indeed so, they have been far
more successful than most of
their kind or the related hawk
species, all of which have de-
creased in numbersso markedly
on Long Island in recent years.
To support my belief, there has
been a remarkable consistency
in their nesting habits; the same
nest will be used for three or
four years, then it is abandoned
and a new nest is built within
a few hundred yards of the last
one. All of the nest-are contained
within a half -mile circle, and all
have been constructed high up
in tall, living pitc hpines. Each
year, one or two young ones have
been raised until able to fend -
for themselves.
I dread the spring when I will
no longer find the pair nesting
in this area; it has been a rare
privilege to have been able to
watch over their family life each
year, and I have come to feel
a close and almost personal
relationship with them. The loca-
tion of the nest has become a
closely kept secret, to be shared
only with those whom I` can be
sure will not disturb the birds
unduly. Without doubt, this solici-
tude on their behalf has resulted
in the redtail becoming one of
my favorite bird species.
To watch a redtail soaring
by Paul Stoutenburgh
Cutchogue
effortlessly in a blue sky, with
his cinnamon tail fanned wide
to steer him in a series of
spirals as he climbs higher on
a rising thermal, is to witness
the embodiment of aerodynamic
perfection. Yet, high as he may
climb, his amazing eyes can
detect every slight movement on
the earth below, and should he
sight the mouse, rabbit, or other
small mammal that is his prey,
he drops like a plummet, to
seize it in his talons.
I often try to understand the
reasons for man's senseless per-
secution of this splendid bird.
Even were he to do some small
measure of harm , how could
anyone bring themselves to des-
troy so perfect a creature? I
have known farmers to boast
of having shot a "chicken hawk ",
as most species of the hawk
famliy are erroneously named,
because it was "hanging around
the- henhouse." He does not stop
to realize that the reason for
the hawk's presence was the
large population of rats and mice
attracted by the chicken feed.
The redtail, and his close
relatives the red- shouldered and
broad- winged hawks, are valu-
able allies of the farmer in
controlling rodent pests, and they
should be encouraged rather than
treated as enemies.
Even more regrettable than
the slaughter of such species
through ignorance is the "sport"
of hawk shooting. Unfortunately
for these birds, they migrat ein
the fall along well- defined routes,
following the ranges of hills to
the west of our coastal plains.
With set wings, they glide
smoothly upon the updrafts from
these ridges; on a mid - October
day with the proper weather
conditions as many as 700 hawks
can be counted going by within
a few fours. It is on such a
day that the gunners are able
to take a terrible toll, for the
birds pass close to the hilltops,
where they present an easy
mark. Those that are hit tumble
into the trees below, the more
fortunate ones to die quickly
but many to linger on for days
with shattered wings ,until they
perish of starvation. No attempt
is made to recover the victims
or to put an end to their suffer-
ings. They have been shot merely
to gratify some perverted hunt-
ing urge that still persists with
some people, who would be
better employed in defending our
rapidly diminishing wildlife re-
sources.
To put a stop to at least
some of this wanton massacre,
a ridge especially favored by
the hawks (and consequently by
the hunters) was purchased by
private funds in 1934, and the
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary was
created. This Sanctuary, in the,
Kitatinny Hills of Pennsylvania,
has become increasingly popular
with naturalists in recent years,
and on a crisp fall day it is
visited by hundreds, armed with
binoculars and telescopes instead
of shotguns. From the crag -
strewn summit known as The
Lookout, the hawks are first seen
as dots over the peaks to the
north, circling to catch a favor-
able draft, when they set their
wings into a steady glide that
orings them sailing close to the
excited watchers. Some of them
pass below, so that one can
actually look down upon their
backs. On a good day for hawks,
as many as eight different spec-
ies can be observed, and occa-
sionally one is rewarded with
the extra thrill of a bald or
golden eagle as well.
It has become my regular
custom during the past few years
to spend at least one weekend
camping at Hawk Mountain dur-
ing the migration, with some of
the local ornithologists and
groups of the interested High
School students. It is only a four -
hour drive from central Long
Island to Hamburg, near the
Sanctuary. At this magnificent
site, the fall scenery in the rich,
wide valley below serves as a
perfect backdrop for the passin
hawks. And each time the shout
goes up from the eager watchers
on the crags: "Here comes a
redtail!" I wonder if it can be
one of my friends from the
family I have watched the pre-
vious spring on Long Island, who
has once again managed to sur-
vive all dangers, to make the
southward journey along the fly
way his instinct is guiding him.
But from wherever he may come,
I wish him a long and fruitful
life, so that he and his kind .
can continue to enrich our skies
an daid our agriculture for many
generations to come.
Send your Field Observations
and Comments to Paul Stouten-
burgh, Rt No 1, Box 105, Bay
Avenue, Cutchogue, N Y.
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