migration count

Soaring to Panama

Panama Eco-Tour Blog Part 1
Read Part 2 by Jamie Dawson
here.

By Dr. Laurie Goodrich, Director of Long-term Monitoring
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary

Panama.  I am finally here.  Since I was a university student I have longed to visit here, enticed by reading the landmark tropical ecology studies that occurred here at sites such as Panama Canal Zone, Pipeline Road, and Canopy Tower.  Later on, as a hawkwatcher, I read of Ancon Hill and the clouds of Swainson’s hawks and turkey vultures swirling above Panama City, and a new “bucket list” place was born.

On October 19, five of the Hawk Mountain 2018 Panama eco-tour members arrived at night to await the start of the Hawk Mountain tour to Panama the following day, with Raptours and raptor expert/former Hawk Mountain trainee Sergio Seipke.  Arriving in the dark, my first impression of Panama City was, ”…Wow, this is larger than I imagined.”  The city lights illuminated towering skyscrapers, boldly lit casinos, and bustling streets.

Bird-watching by the pool, photo by Laurie Goodrich.

Bird-watching by the pool, photo by Laurie Goodrich.

We gathered near the pool for bird-watching and breakfast the next morning.  Sergio pointed out a three-toed sloth sleeping in the tree next to the porch, and soon small flocks of crimson-backed tanagers, thick-billed euphonia, and other tropical birds flitted around us.  By 7:30 am, hundreds of broad-winged hawks rose up over the hotel, circling low and streaming to the northeast.  Swainson’s hawks, Mississippi kites, and black and turkey vultures, joined the flow along with short-tailed hawk and hook-billed kite.  Hundreds of common nighthawks glided overhead along with clouds of barn and cliff swallows as well, all possibly having passed over Pennsylvania in weeks past. 

Kettling broadwings and other raptors, photo by Diane Allison.

Kettling broadwings and other raptors, photo by Diane Allison.

During the late morning, continued streams of broad-winged hawks and turkey vultures sailed overhead.  Patty, a female Broad-winged Hawk from northwest Pennsylvania that we had satellite-tagged in 2016, had roosted just 11 km west of our location on the night before. I was sure she soared above us that morning amid the 50 thousand broadwings we tallied over our hotel, and her satellite-tracked pathway confirmed my suspicion!

The following morning the full 14 member group met up with our Panama bird guide for the tour, Domi, Domiciano Alveo, who along with Sergio of Raptours made sure we saw every bird. After a morning of watching tropical kingbirds, chachalacas, and other new birds, we spent the morning hawk-watching within view of the Panama Canal and the famed Ancon Hill. We watched streams of birds rising off the hills west of town and flying towards us. Contrary to our North American bias, south-bound raptors fly northeast to traverse Panama City and avoid crossing water.

Aplomado falcon perched in tree, photo by Brian Moroney.

Aplomado falcon perched in tree, photo by Brian Moroney.

The next day  we explored the impressive Miraflores Locks- Panama Canal museum.  We stood on a fourth floor deck overlooking massive freighters inching their way through the locks. From the deck, we spotted a king vulture soaring and a bat falcon hunting from the Canal Zone light fixtures.

For the next few nights we stayed at the Canopy Lodge, an amazing eco-lodge immersed in forest aside a fast-flowing stream with fruit feeder trays and hummingbird feeders adjacent to large open deck.  Experienced guides lingered to point out birds and a comfortable sitting area welcomed us to never leave.  During our days we explored the surrounding region and visited the Pacific Ocean.  Small clouds of raptors were seen nearly everywhere in the central mountains.  On the Pacific slope, we had one incredible view of an aplomado falcon perched alongside the road and savannah hawks hunting with egrets in wet meadows.  Other birds included a roadside hawk, crane hawk, and white-tailed kite. 

We then moved to another famed eco-lodge, the Canopy Tower.  Here we were greeted by well-known nature and bird guide, Carlos Bethancourt, who along with the staff treated our group as kings and queens.  The Canopy Tower was built in 1960s as part of the radar defense system for the Panama Canal and was also used to detect drug-carrying planes in the 1980s. In the 1990s it was transferred to visionary Raul Arias de Para who renovated it into a center for neotropical-rainforest ecotourism.  Today the Tower has a hawk-watching deck and hosts bird-watchers in overnight rooms set into the sides of the circular tower.  Rain was a daily companion for us and dampened some of our hawkwatching, however side trips were amazing and included a visit to the famed Pipeline Road, Rainforest Discovery Center and a boat trip on the Canal. 

I gained a new appreciation for the trials of migration through Central America as each day rain blocked flights or kept flocks of hawks fighting for lift. After a cloud burst rain amid the forested hills, we watched an immature broad-winged hawk plummet into the treetops to perch, drenched and wet and looking thoroughly dejected.  As sun tried to emerge, it spent 40 minutes trying to preen its feathers before it finally circled up to try to migrate again.

Geoffroy’s Tamarin monkey, photo by Brian Moroney.

Geoffroy’s Tamarin monkey, photo by Brian Moroney.

Tropical Mammals were a treat to see. At the Tower, Geoffroy’s Tamarin monkeys lingered near the upper deck staring at people, hoping for banana gifts, while white-nosed coati and howler monkeys occasionally passed by. White-faced capuchin troops were seen occasionally and three-toed sloths were spotted nearly every day. 

Each morning an optional pre-dawn gathering occurred outside the Tower, complete with fresh-brewed coffee and tea. Sergio and Domi stood quietly in the dark attempting to call in one of the elusive forest falcons. Mostly the forest was quiet until dawn wakened the hummingbirds to hover at nearby feeders.  On the last morning we met at 5:30 am hoping for the best.  After about 20 minutes, suddenly Sergio leaped to his feet and motioned us off the deck to the driveway below. Soon, not one but all three forest falcon species were heard-- collared, slaty-backed and barred forest-falcons!  For me hearing those rare species was the icing on the cake for a wonderful trip.  For the main tour we tallied 39 raptor species and 253 total birds, despite enduring torrential downpours on part of every day.  We enjoyed amazing views of broad-winged and Swainson’s hawks kettling over the rugged hills of Panama, and, I checked off a lifetime bucket list place.

Group shot taken in the Canopy Tower.

Group shot taken in the Canopy Tower.


This blog is dedicated to Hawk Mountain volunteer, Karen Davidheiser, who accompanied us on several eco-tours in recent  years.

Stay tuned for Part 2, which will tell the dramatic tale of the extension portion of this eco-tour!

Irruptions and Innovation

By Zoey Greenberg, Science Outreach Coordinator
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary

Stella, a snowy owl tagged by Project SNOWstorm earlier this year.

Stella, a snowy owl tagged by Project SNOWstorm earlier this year.

In 2007, Dr. JF Therrien deployed 12 transmitters on snowy owls on Bylot island in the Canadian Arctic. Snowy owls, like other raptors, can be difficult to monitor due to their territoriality and low densities. Arctic-breeding raptors typically establish nesting sites in remote locations, adding to the logistical dilemma of gaining insight into their life history traits, and the role they play within the Arctic ecosystem.

Satellite transmitters, citizen science, and long-term life history studies are extremely valuable tools that allow researchers to examine the movement ecology of birds, including snowy owls. Mixing and matching these tools can open doors to compelling scientific questions, and in the case of Therrien’s snowy owls, has resulted in papers covering a range of topics. New information on survival, reproduction rate, dispersal of adults, irruptions and winter movements are among recent Hawk Mountain publications that were made possible through this type of innovation. 

Two such papers were led by former conservation science trainees, in collaboration with others, including Dr. JF Therrien. These papers delved into the mystery of snowy owl irruptions, defined as the “massive movement of individuals over large distances, associated with large fluctuations in food supply.” Some of us have been lucky enough to see a snowy owl in Pennsylvania, on those rare winters when the birds venture further south than usual. I myself drove two hours to catch a glimpse, and I will never forget the sight of that owl hunkered down in the middle of a field, glittering in evening light. As I drove away, I couldn’t help but wonder; what brings them here?

Two primary hypotheses have been proposed to explain irruptions; the “lack-of-food” hypothesis suggests that snowy owls leave their normal wintering grounds because of food shortage in certain years. This implies that the snowy owls we see in Pennsylvania should be in poor shape, and likely close to starving. The alternative “breeding success” hypothesis instead links irruptive movements to a surplus of food on the breeding grounds.

A snowy owl that was spotted in a local PA field last year.

A snowy owl that was spotted in a local PA field last year.

Snowy owls specialize in lemmings, a prey resource that occurs in pulses, due to their population dynamics. One year there may be a plethora of lemmings scurrying around the tundra, the next year very few, due to high predation and other factors. Lots of lemmings means lots of chicks, which means lots more owls. The breeding success hypothesis implies that the reason we see snowies in Pennsylvania is because following a high lemming year, there are so many owls dispersing at the end of the summer that some young birds push south.

To add depth to our knowledge of irruptions, Teja Curk, a conservation trainee from 2016, assessed the body condition (mass relative to size) of snowy owls during both irruptive and “regular” years. Teja assessed body condition of snowies on both regular (Great Plains) and irregular (Northeaster North America) wintering grounds, to see whether the birds we see during irruptive years are, in fact, starving. She found that most owls (male, female, juvenile and adult) were in good shape during irruptive years and even discovered that body condition was better on the bird’s irregular wintering grounds. “Good shape” in this context varies depending on sex and age of the bird, however less than 2% of the owls approached the weight threshold that would deem them a starving bird. Her results provide support for the breeding success hypothesis.

Pablo Santonja and Irene Mestre, trainees from 2015, looked specifically at the age of the birds found south during irruptive years. Their results supported the same hypothesis, showing that the majority of owls (up to 90%) seen in eastern North America are juvenile birds, meaning they are less than 1 year of age. As with some other migratory species, the more dominant birds within a population don’t move as far. Adult snowy owls often out-compete young birds, so it makes sense that in a year where adults are laying up to 11 eggs, some of those young owls will need to leave to avoid competition from more successful, experienced adults.

Bylot Island, where the Hawk Mountain team tagged and tracked several snowy owls.

Bylot Island, where the Hawk Mountain team tagged and tracked several snowy owls.

This leads to an interesting point: perhaps these two competing hypotheses are not, as Teja notes in her paper, mutually exclusive. After a highly productive lemming year, many lemmings will be eaten due to a surge in predator numbers, and therefore the next year could produce low lemming numbers. If this happens, snowy owls could be forced to look elsewhere for food. So, it turns out, that both a surplus of food and a lack of food seem to play a role in the patterns of movement among snowy owl populations.

If you ask me, these papers are a beautiful example of the scientific method at work; formulating ideas, testing those ideas, and polishing the conclusions in pursuit of certainty. Hats off to our trainees and their collaborators for hard work and intriguing findings. Teja is currently at the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology in Germany pursuing a PhD. Pablo is living in Spain, and Irene is now returning from three years in Australia.

Both of these papers utilized a data set resulting from a 25 year-long study in which live snowy owls were weighed, sexed, and aged. Christmas Bird Count (CBC) was also a valuable asset in both studies. For those of you unfamiliar with CBC, every winter thousands of volunteers gather together on the same day, collecting bird records within a territory and submitting them to a database that provides an impressive summary of which birds were seen, where, and how many. These papers demonstrate the utility of both citizen science and long-term studies, and in a rapidly changing world, this cross-pollination of resources is critical. We are very proud of our trainees for their hard work, and grateful to citizen scientists around the globe who give their time to participate in the expansion of our raptor knowledge.

Gaining a holistic understanding of an ecosystem requires acknowledgment of moving parts within, not separate from, the whole. Hawk Mountain’s research is part of several collaborative efforts to better understand the role of snowy owls within the big picture, including Project SNOWstorm and the Bylot Island Ecological Studies and Environmental Monitoring.  

Future projects will include building a model that combines reproductive and mortality rates to assess population trends of snowy owls. This past August, three transmitters were deployed on chicks before they left their breeding grounds. Investigating the movement patterns of these birds will hopefully allow for a comparative look at owls throughout the Eastern tundra, Western tundra, and those in between.

Check out Project SNOWstorm’s website (including a blog written by J.F Therrien on the most recently tagged snowy owls in Barrow, Alaska, as well as interactive maps): projectsnowstorm.org/posts/tracking-young-snowies-in-the-arctic/

Heroes of Hawk Mountain: Warner Berthoff

Warner witnessed Hawk Mountain’s Miracle Day on September 14, 1978, when counters tallied a record 21,448 broad-winged hawks. Here he proudly displays his “I was here” t-shirt.

Warner witnessed Hawk Mountain’s Miracle Day on September 14, 1978, when counters tallied a record 21,448 broad-winged hawks. Here he proudly displays his “I was here” t-shirt.

Some people simply embody the spirit of Hawk Mountain, and such was the case with Warner Berthoff. Warner first visited the Sanctuary in the 1960’s, and returned, year after year, to soak in the view from North Lookout, chat with his Mountain friends, and enjoy the flight, which with any luck included good kettles of broadwings.

It was in the late 60’s that he met “Broadwing Charlie” Gant, who would become a life-long friend. “In 45 minutes, my dad learned more about broadwings than he could have read in a year of book learning,” laughs his daughter Rachel. The two hit it off and, going forward, always met at Hawk Mountain each September.

Dr. Laurie Goodrich, who coordinates the count and spends much time at the lookouts, recalls that Warner would coordinate by phone to make sure the two arrived on the same day, which may have been the only time they saw one another all year long.

“Warner would always arrive first and ask, 'where is he?' and 'did anybody see him yet?'” Laurie laughs. “Then all of a sudden Charlie would show up, and all would be right in the world. They’d settle in on the north side under the trees and talk non-stop, even when the birds started to move. They’d look up at the birds, and then go back to talking,” she says.

And so the years passed, with Warner making the 340-mile ride to Hawk Mountain to climb the North Lookout. He made his last hike in 2016 at age 89 with his son and daughter at his side.

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“He easily could have watched broadwings from Massachusetts, but he always came back here,” says Laurie, who looked forward to his annual arrival as much as anyone.

Warner died on August 28, 2018, but he lived a full and beautiful life. He was a professor emeritus at Harvard University, where he taught English and American literature for more than 20 years. He was a brilliant thinker and sought-after academic whose visiting professorships took him from Sicily to Berkeley to Poland and beyond. He enjoyed his friends and family, along with many other hobbies and interests. Hawk-watching was but a small slice of his life, but it’s the one we knew and loved.

Like others, Warner demonstrates that Hawk Mountain isn’t just a place on a map, but a community of friends brought together by a love for this place, the birds overhead, and the work we do. He reminds us that Hawk Mountain is truly a sanctuary, not just for wildlife, but also for the soul.

We thank Warner for sharing more than 50 years of friendship, and his family for sharing him.

The Challenge in the Joy of Learning: Batumi 2018

By Paulina Camarena, 2016 Conservation Science Trainee
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary

I still remember the time at Hawk Mountain, when one of my now best friends and colleagues in raptor conservation, Aneesha Pokharel, was slightly worried about identifying North American raptor species as she is from Nepal and those birds would be completely new to her.  Now it was my turn.

As a field biologist focused on bird monitoring, particularly raptors, I have monitored migrating raptors in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec in México, my home country, in addition to being an intern at Hawk Mountain in the spring of 2016. However, the time to jump into unknown species to me appeared recently.  I found out that the Batumi Raptor Count (BRC) was seeking volunteers to monitor the migration from August to November in Batumi, Georgia. Despite knowing it was going to be a challenge to count and identify species I have never seen before, I decided to apply, and I cannot be happier about having taken that chance.

View of Batumi and the Black Sea from Station 1 - Sahalvasho

View of Batumi and the Black Sea from Station 1 - Sahalvasho

My first day was August 12, 2018, and my journey to Batumi has been the longest I have ever taken to reach a place. As I was in England, I took a flight from London to Amsterdam, then to Istanbul, and finally, being the most affordable option at the moment, I took a bus to Batumi. I spent 24 hrs in that bus! Despite the long hours and stressful moments—absolutely no one spoke English nor Spanish in the bus—I gratefully remember how some people helped me in many ways. Finally I was there, in my new home for the following two months: Sahalvasho in Batumi.

Pallid Harrier soars by Batumi. Photo by Frits Hoogeveen.

Pallid Harrier soars by Batumi. Photo by Frits Hoogeveen.

Honey buzzards, steppe buzzards, black kites, marsh harriers, Montagu’s and pallid harriers… among many others. They looked so similar to the new, unskilled eyes. The first days felt absolutely slow, with quiet early mornings and long hours with not many birds yet decorating the sky, plus the pressure of learning to ID the species. There were two observation points: Sahalvasho and Shuamta. Station 2, Shuamta was my favorite since the beginning, as the height was just a pleasure in addition to the landscape, and for the ones who have been there, we know the hike up is not precisely easy at all times but certainly rewarding. Step by step, day after day, and thanks to the people I was surrounded by, I started to pick up the species I was watching. However, I have to admit it took me a while to feel confident enough to say “Palmtop” and register the species I was seeing cross the transect line. While watching a bird through the binoculars and thinking “that’s a marsh harrier" to then hear  “marsh harrier!” by someone else, I knew that I was successfully learning  and in those moments I felt such joy. The days started to go faster, and the number of birds counted day after day increased.  To watch and be able to discern between Montagu's and pallid harriers was a rewarding experience but definitely not an easy one, among many others, and was the result of the everyday practice.

Imperial eagle flies overhead. Photo by Frits Hoogeveen

Imperial eagle flies overhead. Photo by Frits Hoogeveen

 During my stay at Hawk Mountain, I learned significantly about vultures and their critical conservation status, and they became among my favorite group of birds. I will never forget the moment at Batumi, when a griffon vulture circled among an enormous kettle of steppe buzzards just in front of us, and another memory made by a moment when, after some light rain around Station 2, raptors flew by so close to us that we felt we could almost touch them. In no place before I have seen raptors flying by so close. The time of the eagles also arrived, and watching hundreds of them flying above us was also memorable; these are the things that make you feel you are a lucky person.

Over a million raptors were counted this season, however Batumi was not only the birds. The BRC is the people from many countries and a variety of backgrounds, reunited to contribute in raptor conservation; it is the charming Georgian families who hosted us and the delicious food that was on our table on every dinner time. It is the sharing of knowledge and experience, for sure an amazing learning opportunity for everyone.                

Part of the team of international counters at the BRC 2018.

Part of the team of international counters at the BRC 2018.

Eyes Up and Open

By Abigail DeVizia, 2017 Hawk Mountain Artist in Residence

In April of 2017, I was preparing to graduate from Kutztown University. With only one month left, all of my remaining energy was focused on soaking up any knowledge and practice I could get out of my last few weeks of classes. My professors often encouraged us to find new languages and meanings for our artwork, but I was always focused on the question of how I was going to start an art career after school.  Luckily for me, I had helpful advisers that suggested the first step: apply for the Hawk Mountain Artist Residency.

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By August, I had moved into the Acopian Center for Conservation Learning alongside a few education interns and trainees. In the beginning of my two month stay, most of my time was spent driving and taking pictures.  I photographed gas stations, overgrown backyards, and some quiet factories for reference. I was accustomed to painting in my familiar language—tattered, small town landscape—despite being surrounded by a grand new landscape full of life.  But, as expected, plans change. I considered painting the sociopolitical exchange between Berks and Schuylkill inhabitants, but after a couple weeks, I realized that this was neither compelling nor could it be explained well without painting the people themselves. I was, however, still interested in the image of the two counties dividing the mountain in half, and how differently they appear.  One was comforting and folksy with wide farm fields, and the other was commercial with numerous strip malls, restaurants and supermarkets.  But something still felt missing.

Day by day, I did a mixture of drawing, hiking, painting, and photographing.  Being a part of this environment, where every day the interns were discussing migration, the daily bird sightings, and the importance of conservation, I was noticing the small glimpses of life.  I hiked the mountain on my own and observed that everyone, from the experienced birder to the novice visitor, was interested in learning about the raptors.  All of this was new to me because, prior to my stay, wildlife painting was not as meaningful to me; yet now, I wanted to talk about it.  I wanted to learn how raptors travelled, how they hunted, when I could see them.  I knew that my paintings would have to focus on the migration. 

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When the interns returned to the residence, I would often ask them about the birds they saw that day.  They told me what was travelling through the area and how to identify raptors, and I would look for them when I photographed.  Unsurprisingly, certain birds would make their way into my paintings.  Every new painting made me think about what bird was active at that time, or what kind of raptor would be common in the scene I was forming.  For example, I labored for weeks on one watercolor that was filled with branches, flora and tall grass, but in this scene, I was drawn to a white fence that felt like a perfect place for something to be perched.  I asked many of the resident scientists what would be seen sitting so obviously in the open, and was the right size for the fence.  All of them agreed that a Coopers Hawk would be the perfect fit, so I painted a Cooper’s Hawk looming over its prey.  It was finally concrete in my mind that all of my work was a spotlight on the raptors and the unique places they inhabit.  

I decided to take advantage of my location and began painting on site.  I painted at North Lookout a few times to make a rather simple but warm depiction of the rising sun.  This inspired me to start painting the other lookouts and expand the flow of this series to include sites from the Mountain. 

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Each lookout, such as North Lookout, the Kettle View, the River of Rocks, and the Lookout Trail, offered insight into the geographic layout of the land.  These sights from Hawk Mountain's own trails bind together the paintings from off the Mountain and showcase that raptors have traveled hundreds of miles to make a temporary home with us in our wildly varying landscape.  This is the idea that countries, states, and counties are all sharing the opportunity to look up and experience the birds during migration, and now I have the opportunity to share those glimpses in visually compelling ways.  

What the Sanctuary offered to me was an invested look into how birds are counted, identified, and studied every day. It taught me to be open-minded with my plans, and never closed off to changing my inspiration.  I always felt that I painted subjects that were underappreciated, and now I know to keep my eyes up to the things that I myself have ignored.  Thanks to the work of many, I can share what should be adored in the quiet Pennsylvania landscape of Hawk Mountain, and a new love of wildlife and narrative.  Hawk Mountain Sanctuary brings joy to visitors on a daily basis, and I am proud to say that now, I can bring this joy wherever I go.

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Come and experience the incredible series of work that Abby created during her time at the Sanctuary at her art show entitled "Sharing the Birds," which will be on display in the Hawk Mountain Visitor Center Gallery from August 19 to September 15, 2018. It will be free and open to the public.

All photos and art by Abigail DeVizia. 

All photos and art by Abigail DeVizia. 

Late Migration Mountain Musings

By Dr. Laurie Goodrich, Director of Long-term Monitoring
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary

“… break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”  - John Muir

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Migration flow slows in late November and December, with some days seeing barely a trickle.  But, nearly half the birds we count can be eagles, bald and golden.  Because thermals are rare, the eagles hug the ridge so close that they seem to barely clear the treetops. And, late season days are the only time I have ever seen a northern goshawk or northern harrier strafe the decoy owl.  December is often the best time to see rough-legged hawk, an arctic nesting species that rarely visits Pennsylvania, and one of the rarest raptor migrants. And, northern nesting songbirds such as red and white-winged crossbills are often only seen on these late season days.  Despite these exciting possible sightings, the visitor numbers diminish drastically at this time and counters are often found alone on the rocks.

Laurie scans the sky for migrants from atop North Lookout.

Laurie scans the sky for migrants from atop North Lookout.

Thanksgiving Day, November 23 2017: My sister calls me 9 am.  She asks “where are you having thanksgiving dinner?” I tell her I am going to count hawks in afternoon, though a volunteer is working there this morning.  She is audibly horrified, “they make you count on a holiday? “

“Well…” I say, “ I cannot ask a volunteer to be there, although one is there for the morning. And, other staff have covered other years so it is my turn….” She is quiet and I can tell she is feeling sorry for me, so I say, “and the birds still fly south even on holidays.”  

Secretly, I don’t tell her I am looking forward to my afternoon “on the rocks”.  Later that day I count nine red-tailed hawks and an adult bald eagle gliding south and greet nearly 100 visiting hikers on a sunny Mountain day, sharing my Thanksgiving pumpkin bread. 

Since the 1980s, Hawk Mountain staff and volunteers have manned the North Lookout daily from mid-August through mid-December for the annual autumn migration count.  However, in the early years the season began September 1st and ended November 30th. As we learned more about raptor migration timing, we realized a longer season was needed to fully sample the raptors, particularly eagles and buteos, so we extended the hawk count. 

An immature bald eagle soars past the lookout. 

An immature bald eagle soars past the lookout. 

Bald Eagles have a bi-modal migration with two peaks, one in late August or early September and one in November.  The early eagles are the southern nesting race, that begins nesting in late fall in southern states, while the later birds are the northern bald eagles that nest in New England, Mid-Atlantic and northward.  The northern birds often do not move south in large number until waterways start to freeze up north.  If we have mild autumn weather, we often can have double-digit daily counts of bald eagles into mid-December, which for a species where we record 300 to 500 annually can make a large difference in annual totals.  Golden eagles also can be observed into December with the golden-tinged adults more likely at this time.  Add in an adult goshawk or rough-legged hawk and you have the makings of a great day.

Late season counting is also a great time to ‘wash the spirit clean’ as John Muir states.  The forest is often quiet save for the occasional common raven or pileated woodpecker call.   The skies can be still, save for the occasional raptor or skein of snow geese or tundra swan passing by.  When the sun hits the rocks, sometimes frosted with snow, the peace and beauty of the Mountain can recharge.  Though I hesitate to share this secret of Hawk Mountain, these late season days are worth a few hours time, whether there are migrating raptors or not.    

On that note, happy holidays everyone, and be sure to join us in the Spring!

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Red-Letter Days

Broadwing kettle photos by Bill Moses

Broadwing kettle photos by Bill Moses

By David Barber, Research Biologist
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary

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Maurice Broun, the Sanctuary's first curator, described "red-letter days" as "those days when hawks flood the Sanctuary skyways, as in fulfillment of a hawk-lover's hopes and dreams."  And the great thing about red-letter days is that they are often unexpected.  Such is the case with the peak of our broad-winged hawk flight this year.  Sunday, September 17th had an inauspicious start, the ridge was completely socked in with low clouds and the front of the lookout was barely visible.  It was the type of day where you wonder if the clouds will ever lift or will you sit in the clouds all day.  It was a great chance to catch up with old friends and make new ones as there wasn't much to see except for the fog.

Finally, around 11:15 the clouds started to break up and we could see patches of blue.  I looked up at a patch of blue over the Kempton valley and could see broadwings coming out of a dark gray clouds appearing briefly before quickly disappearing into another dark cloud.   Two questions immediately popped into my head, how could they be up so high already and how many have we missed.   We all started scanning the blue and would occasionally see small groups of broadwings streaming though.  At the end of the hour counters tallied 157 broadwings.

Everyone's spirits were boosted and thoughts turned to the possibility that today could be the big flight of the season.  Was the previous day's count of 1,589 broadwings just the beginning?  We know that there had some big flights in New England earlier in the week, but those birds should have already passed through Pennsylvania. 

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Counts started to build over the next few hours, with 247 broadwings one hour, 527 the next, it was turning out to be a good day with just over 1,000 broadwings.  Around 3:15 someone called out "there's a big kettle over #4."  They weren't kidding,  I put my binoculars on #4 where birds were streaming in and started moving up, the kettle stretched from just over #4 to three to four glasses high.  The size of the kettle immediately brought me back to the time I visited the Veracruz  River of Raptors watchsite in Mexico, where daily counts can exceed 100,000 in a day. "They're streaming out the top" one of the counter yelled and soon the only sound you heard was the sound of clickers as the counters tried to keep up with "flood" of broadwings.  This clicking continued almost non-stop for the rest of the hour as new kettles formed and birds streamed past the lookout.  At the end of the hour we all looked at each other in awe having just witnessed 2,908 broadwings pass by in 45 minutes.    

Just as quickly the "flood" of broadwings slowed to a trickle and by day's end 4,019 broad-winged hawks were counted, a "red-letter day" that I, and I'm sure many others will remember for the rest of our lives.

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Spring Migration Wrap Up: Breaking Records!

Last day of the count, featuring conservation science trainee Tamara Beal. Photo by Rebekah Smith, education intern. 

Last day of the count, featuring conservation science trainee Tamara Beal. Photo by Rebekah Smith, education intern. 

By Gigi Romano, Communications Specialist
Hawk Mountain Sanctuary

The official Spring 2017 Migration Hawk Watch at Hawk Mountain Sanctuary has come to a close. With this season, which runs from April 1 to May 15, we saw record numbers and plenty of flourishing wildlife from the lookouts. 

Our counters, volunteers, and trainees have done a respectable job counting all of the passing raptors, a total of 1222 migrants! The spring conservation science trainees have finished their time up at the Lookouts, but they're time has not concluded yet; you can still catch them on the trails willing to share their accrued raptor knowledge.

This spring migration, Hawk Mountain saw a continued trend from the fall: breaking species count records! We saw a new high record amount of bald eagles, 75, and golden eagles, 8. The total tallied broad-winged hawks also tied the past record amount, 642. The highest one-day count was on April 23, when 302 broadwings soared past the lookout. The last raptor of the count was an osprey. 

And with that, another successful spring migration is in the books! Make sure to check out our Dunkadoo profile to see up-to-date visuals of all of the spring count data, and you can see the final count numbers of all of the spring count by visiting our Raptor Count page.

While the official count has ended, the fun atop the Mountain never does! Visit our event calendar at hawkmountain.org/events to see what you attend this summer and fall. We can't wait to see you soon, and the Autumn Hawk Watch will come before we know it.