Chicago Peregrine Falcon Blog

I had a treat waiting in my email box this morning from Preston Kendall:

“Steph – Dan Cozza from the EPA thought you might like some of my photos of the MCC birds. Here are six that I took on Monday. Preston Kendall”

Buh. Splutter. The pictures are gorgeous. I mean frameably gorgeous. I asked him if I could put them in my journal and he said, “I’d be honored.”

I think it might be a little okay that I feel as jealous as I do right now. It is, isn’t it?

It reminds me of the time, years ago, when a few friends and I began brewing our own beer as a summer hobby. We finally got a batch that a.) didn’t explode and b.) could actually be consumed without causing immediate gag reactions. Proudly, we took our beer to another friend who owned the Rogue Brewery in Oregon. He politely took a sip, wiped his mouth and said, “Wow! That…really, that…good try, you guys! You got a batch that didn’t explode! That’s a good first step!”

Then he let us try two of his award winning special brews. It made me wish our beer had exploded. Summer ended and so did the beer hobby.

Wait. I think my pictures of the falcons might be exploding. I should go check. Back now.

All self-deprecating humor aside, this is one hobby I’m not going to give up on just because I am an amateur. Bad beer – well, I just can’t stomach that. Bad pictures of beautiful falcons? I guess I’m pretty much A-OK with that one.

My super-secret garage spies tell me that Preston’s telephoto lens is somewhere between a foot and 7 feet long. A few of my super-secret garage spies have exaggeration problems, but I’ll take it on good faith that Preston has one heck of a long telephoto. And, well, everyone knows – at least when it comes to telephotos – size does matter.

Chick Development (from the literature): The chicks are almost fully feathered with traces of down on the crown of the head, under the wings and on the outer several remiges. The retrices are not fully grown, but the bird is capable of weak flight and will fledge around this time. Some fledge earlier, some later. Males generally fledge before females, because males are smaller. At any rate, this is a chick coming up on this stage of development.

Well, and so it went with us! The male chick was small and fledged before his sisters, at day 38.

Posted in Chicago MCC

Sean celebrates his 36th birthday today, which means he is leaving his “Dante Year” (Dante was 35 when he began his journey in The Divine Comedy) and enters his “Einstein Year” (Einstein was 36 the year he unveiled his Theory of General Relativity). I have some ideas on general theories he might propose, so we’ll see what he thinks. My best advice to him would be to unify his laws. If it worked for Einstein…

Sean’s grandparents have a big back yard with many bird feeders. I’ve really been having a good time watching all the small birds twitter about. And grandma, grandpa, Suzy and Sean have been very good about my endless falcon talk. They even came downstairs and watched the ABC news story that ran on channel 7 in Chicago featuring Mary banding the Evanston babies (thanks to my friend John for sending that link).

Before I left Chicago, Mary mentioned that there used to be a pair of falcons on a bank building in Peoria and said if I happened to be downtown to look around for them. I mentioned it to my mother-in-law and she mentioned it to her folks. Grandpa V. is a man of action and so he made a few calls to a few people and soon I was on the phone with a bird enthusiast who knew many things of interest. He knew of the Peoria Peregrine Falcons, for instance, but he and his wife had just returned from a month in Holland, so he didn’t know if they’d nested this year. He gave me a few names and numbers and I decided to follow up.

I talked to the president of the Audubon Society in Peoria who was very helpful and then to a man at the Forest Park Nature Center. They both gave me the name of the man who had actually put the nest box up on the Associated Bank Building downtown. I called him, but he wasn’t home. I left a message.

Between the Audubon president and the Nature Center employee, I found out that at the end of May (this year), an adult male and subadult had been seen consistently cruising around the 150 bridge. I, in fact, had seen an adult Peregrine soaring over the river as we crossed that very bridge on the way into town the day before. The adult commonly perches on one of the bridge’s stanchions, I was told. The two had also been seen hunting by a little park on the river by the waterworks bridge. Interesting! I wonder if “subadult” is “Miss Subadult”? Hope so!

Had this email waiting from Dan:

“Have not seen anything of the little male. Today, the 3 remaining are enjoying the extra space on the ledge and the one less mouth to fight with for the food. Your right about the late bloomer, the last on the ledge yesterday still had several puffs of white on its back. These are gone now, but were very obvious yesterday. I bumped into a guy named Preston Kendall yesterday as he and his wife were taking pictures on the parking garage of the 3 remaining birds. He may be able to provide you with some good shots. Mary met him later on the garage roof. I have his email if you are interested. He says he may have a picture of the adult male where you can read the band. He is looking for it and will send it to me when he finds it. I heard that you were able to stop by the garage early yesterday? Did you get any good shots of the family? All for now. Hope your visit to beautiful Peoria is fun and exciting. Dan”

Wow! PICTURES OF THE MALE’S BAND!!! To good to be true. But then … what will I obsess over? Can’t wait to meet Preston Kendall and wife.

Anyway, Happy 36th Birthday to my wonderful husband Sean!

Posted in Chicago MCC

The game went pretty last night. The Sox lost, but came from a 2 to 10 point deficit in the 9th inning to lose by only two points, which was rather exciting to watch. Man, they really lit that 9th inning pitcher up. It took at least an hour and a half (plus a nice scotch) to thaw out and calm down enough to actually go to sleep. So, I had a bit of a hard time getting out of bed this morning.

I got up especially early so that I would have time to run over to the garage and let James, Tom, Nichelle and the rest know that Hercules is currently in no mood for interlopers. And that Hercules had completely redefined “interloper” as anyone within a block of her fledglings. So informed, I trucked back home to pack stuff up and head to the ‘el, Midway-bound. We had a hot date with a 10am shuttle bus to Peoria.

While we were waiting on the platform at the Library stop, I walked down to the very end where I could see a clear shot of the MCC nest. Two chicks were out, one, of course, being Mr. Hyper himself – the male. His wings flapped so fast they blurred and his little feet left the ledge several times, causing Sean, Suzy and I to gasp and cringe a bit.

“I really, really bet he is going to go today,” I told them. Both agreed. I wished the male fledgling a silent “good luck” as we boarded the Orange Line.

About four hours later, our bus cruised across the 150 bridge into downtown Peoria. I watched the sky for any sign of peregrines and spotted one about a quarter of the way across the bridge, soaring out over the river. As we left the bridge, I took a good look at downtown. One of the buildings, either the tallest or second to tallest, looked perfect. In fact, it looked a heck of a lot like University Hall on the UIC campus where one of our Chicago pairs nests. The wide ledge at the very top made for an ideal nesting ledge and I wondered if that was the nest box building. I’ll probably find out tomorrow.

We had a very nice afternoon and evening at House of Grandparents and when it came time for bed, I asked if they would mind if I checked my email. Of course they didn’t! Good hosts! I had this email waiting from Dan Cozza:

“Hello Peregrine watchers. As you probably know, there have been 4 chicks this year at the Prison nest. The first, the smallest and probably the only male of the four fledged today just after noon. A few of us on the 15th floor witnessed the first flight and it was a lot like watching beginning figure skaters, as the young fledgling dipped down, came up, tried to land on the plain wall of the building east of the prison courtyard, followed by a big dip down, a recovery, a flight across the courtyard, behind the prison and then into a solid wall just passed the parking lot at Clark and Congress, then down finally on a Range Rover. By the time we got to the site, it was gone, as the parking lot attendant was trying to catch the “eagle”. The young male took off back east but was not seen again. While looking in the area to make sure the male was safe and not on the ground somewhere, I bumped into two other peregrine watchers and one shared his photo of one of the parents he took last year. It is attached. Keep watching as the remaining three are ready to fly and the one that did may come back into view soon. Dan”

So, he did go. I thought that little guy wasn’t going to stay around for long. Hope he’s just fine and gearing up for his next flight on the top of a building somewhere downtown!

Posted in Chicago MCC

Suzy, Sean and I were headed to Peoria to visit Sean’s grandparents from Monday to Wednesday and had a busy Sunday planned. I wanted to check in on the falcons. Sean had to do a bit of work email. We all wanted to go over to Blues Fest in Grant Park. Suzy wanted to see the falcons. We had packing and various household chores. And months before, Suzy had purchased Sox tickets and the game was at 7pm. We had a lot to accomplish.

It wasn’t pouring out, just the same on and off drizzle as the day before, with moments of sunshine through cloud breaks. I walked the MCC perimeter. No chicks down – good. Then, up to the 12th floor for a quick peek around before setting up shop at the 11th floor “dry-post.”

Three chicks perched on the nest ledge… Ah, crap! My office just sprang a leak!

Back now. Sorry. My office springing a leak had nothing to do with falcons. But, what a mess. Anyway.

Where was I. Oh yeah. Three chicks perched on the nest ledge, jostling each other as they all tried to pace back and forth. I could not see Hercules anywhere, but Max sat on the stairwell roof sleepily watching the activity across the way. Having learned my lesson well the day before, I stayed back while I was on the roof. It began sprinkling again and I went to the 11th floor. I snapped quite a few pictures of the three chicks while idly wondering where the fourth chick was.

As I watched, I noticed that the largest female almost seemed to be policing the male. Every time he would move, she would wait for him to settle and then go over and nudge him around. He switched from the east side of the ledge to west side, back and forth, but she would not leave him alone. I bet she’s getting him back for being a pest in the nest.

After an hour, Max soared in and landed on the ledge. He had prey with him, but dropped very quickly into the nest with it, so I did not see what he had. All the chicks but the largest female piled in after him, vocalizing loudly. Max came out of the nest seconds later and the biggest female tried to police him too!

She must be the sheriff of that there nest. She certainly doesn’t take any tomfoolery. Max didn’t look too impressed a she flattened herself down in a menacing manner and squabbled at him. Finally, he leaned over and, at least from my angle, looked like he touched his beak to hers before taking off again. Anyway, the above picture illustrates just how very full grown the chicks are at this age. If she didn’t have the zany juvenile plumage and random puffs of down scattered over her back, she’d look just like Max.

Finally, she dropped down into the nest and all was quiet. In fifteen minutes or so, the male came back out. He flapped around for a few, enjoying the sister-free ledge before the largest female – Miss Police State – came out and put and end to that noise. The two sat very primly side by side for most of the remainder of my time there, which gave me time to really contemplate the amazing size difference between the two.

Just as I began packing up, the largest female prepared to go back into the nest. As soon as she had her back turned, the male turned to her and flared his wings out. For all the world, it looked like he was mocking her.

I am really starting to dig the male’s personality. He seems mischievous. Laughing, I packed up and wandered home. We spent the day at the Blues Fest, good times were had and then it was time to take Suzy up to see the falcons.

‘Lo and behold, four chicks perched on the ledge! Sean, Suzy and I were very excited to see that the last chick had finally come out of the nest. The ledge was sure getting crowded! The “crowded ledge” picture below gives a better perspective on that as it isn’t cropped and is taken at 12x magnification. Anyway, with the ledge that crowded, it is no wonder Herc and Max spend very little time at the nest.

The babies suitably impressed Sean and Suzy but then it started drizzling again, so we trudged home, hoping the Sox game later that evening wasn’t going to get called. As it turns out, it didn’t, but it was one of the coldest games I’ve ever been to. Fun anyway, though.

Posted in Chicago MCC

Suzy arrived safe and sound last night and we had a happy family reunion. We talked long into the night about jobs, baseball (if I say “Go Sox!” here, it might just make my husband’s week, so: GO SOX!), falcons, travel, grief, food, Chicago and poker. Suzy discovered the PSP and a little game called “World Championship Poker 2: Featuring Howard Lederer.” She surprised both Sean and I by showing exceptional natural aptitude for No-limit Hold ’em. Currently, I’m considering taking her to Vegas as a ringer.

I got up early and tip-toed out of the house, leaving a “Falconing. Be back soon. I mean it. Soon. I promise this time. Love you.” note on the kitchen island. First things first, I checked the perimeter of MCC for any fallen chicks. Happily, I found nothing.

Rain drizzled out of the sky, so I went to the garage’s covered 11th floor instead of the roof. Herc and Max were nowhere to be seen, but two wet and rather miserable looking chicks toughed it out on the ledge. Instantly, I recognized the male, huddled against the westernmost wall. He looked far wetter than his sister, who was holding court in the center of the ledge.

“I wonder,” I said to no one, “did your sisters kick you out of the nest Mr. Hyper McSpaz? Or are you just that eager to be on your own?”

The female opened her mouth as if to respond and let out a gusty ‘screee!’ She looked around expectantly, turned, and hopped back into the nest. For the next hour, the male sat, feathers puffed out, down on his feet.

It stopped raining, so I thought I’d go up on the roof to scope for Herc and Max before I headed on home. I couldn’t see either of them as I walked down to my stairwell post. I set up my tripod and attached my spotting scope just in time for Max to come in from the east and swoop up to the stairwell roof!

The post next to the stairwell provides the closest, straightest view of the nesting site, so I’ve always favored it. On these special occasions with Max lands on the roof of the stairwell while I’m at this post, I am in the closest proximity to him as either adult falcon ever allows, with him barely four feet directly over my head, but out of sight. If I’m not jonesing for a look at his leg bands, so backing up slowly to an incline at the halfway mark of the roof so that I can see him, I savor that shared space. Every time I’ve stayed, Max has come to the edge to peer over at me. I’ll hear the tap-tap-tapping of his talons on the metal edge of the rooftop. When the tapping stops, I can slowly look up and there he will be, leaning out over the edge to look straight down on me, eye to eye.

If I were a stupid person, I would reach up and skritch the underside of his big falcony chin. While I will admit to spacey, absent-minded and at times even absurd, I’m not stupid. I’ve never even moved during these moments. Still and all, it’s breathtaking to be that close and to know that he is taking me in just as I am taking him in.

The first couple of times this happened, I was wary because I had no idea what he might do. My mind’s eye imagined him dropping, lightening quick, onto my face and snipping my eyes out of their sockets. However, my mind’s eye often favors gory special effects like that and 98% of the time, things turn out just fine. 100% of these times with Max, he’s not only allowed me to keep my eyes, but hasn’t really reacted to me much at all. It’s a quick, curious look I get from him before he’ll tap back out of site to do whatever he came there to do.

Back to present, Max swooped up and tap-tap-tapped over, craning his neck to look down at me. I looked up. He took off. As he rose into the air, heading for the skyperch it looked like, I heard another falcon call down. Herc was on the skyperch. Max answered. Herc responded. Max landed and Herc took off. She dove, heading straight for me.

This, too, has happened with regularity as I am in the dive-swoop path from the skyperch to the nest. On one or two occasions, she or he has gone about 3 feet over my head on their way to the nest. It’s happened often enough, in fact, that I started to count the dive awhile ago. Usually on the “thous” of the “6-1000,” she/he hits the base of the swoop and levels off, buzzing over me on the way to the nest ledge.

So, out of habit, I started the count. Something seemed different. I think it was probably the fact that Hercules had never screamed in rage while descending before. That, by the by, is what is called a “brilliant animal behavior observation” (for those of you who don’t know me, that last was uttered in my most sarcastic tone).

“Hmm-1000,” I thought. “She’s-1000 mad-1000.” Another brilliant observation.

Too late to do anything more, I turned my head, silently thanked myself for wearing a baseball cap today, closed my eyes, tensed and continued the count. At the “6”, I turtled my head into my collar and ducked. It turned out to be a good move on my part because on the “one th..”, Herc hit me with the back of her knuckle, knocking my hat off my head. Thankfully, my evasive maneuver resulted in her sharp back talon scraping across blank space instead of scalp. She veered and swooped up to land on the Monadnock ledge where she immediately turned, looked straight down at me, and screamed again.

“Hrrrmmm, yeah,” I coughed. “Message received LOUD and clear, Herc. Babies are on the ledge and I am no longer welcome to stand this close. I got it. Moving back. Real slow. Moving back. Calm down,” I said quietly as I very slowly grabbed me things and backed away.

As soon as I got to the halfway point of the roof, she calmed. I stood there a moment just to gauge her temper and then decided to pack it in for the day. I didn’t want to be late home, after all. It had nothing to do with angry falcons. Sheesh.

As I thought, I wasn’t the least bit cut. There was a little bump on the back of my head and, Sean said, a bruise, but that was it. Herc just gave me a little warning tap to let me know that things had changed. I’m cool with that and will fully respect the new borders.

Posted in Chicago MCC

I got to the top of the garage at 8am and immediately saw Max sitting on the top of the stairwell roof. Huzzah! Leg band time! I hurried up the incline about halfway back from the stairwell and quickly set up my gear. Max was perched, but he wasn’t sleepy. Instead, he was standing up off his feet and staring at the nest ledge. His leg band was in full view. I stared through my scope until my eye started to water. Black “5”. Black “5”. Confirmed. Green…looks like a sideways “E”. Looks like it.

Still a bit sheepish about my mistake with Hercules’ band, I knew confirmed didn’t mean confirmed until there was photographic proof. I snapped a half-dozen or so pictures. At some point, he started to groom himself and kindly held his banded leg straight out and up for at least 2 minutes while I wildly snapped pictures. I got it! I got it! “You aren’t going to be “Max” much longer! What will your real name be, I wonder?”

In this frenzy to appease my obsession for leg band information, I hadn’t noticed that Max seemed agitated. In fact, between short grooming sessions, he actually was pacing back and forth across the stairwell roof, stopping every turn to stare at the nest ledge. Hmmm.

I checked out the ledges. Hercules was sitting over on the niche four from the right, about 2 down from the nest. She, too, seemed hyper-alert. Curious. Max suddenly took off from the stairwell roof and landed on the far right niche. He and Herc vocalized back and forth and he dropped down into the niche. He came out two minutes later and took off to the east. Herc left her perch right after, heading southeast. I checked the time: 8:34am.

At 9:22am, Max returned and went directly to the skyperch. Herc returned at 9:27am and landed on the Monadnock. They vocalized, both staring at the nest. I stared at the nest. A puff of debris shot up. Hmmm. “I wonder,” I said to myself, “I wonder if the babies are coming out today.”

For the next hour, we all three watched the nest ledge. Occasionally, puffs of debris would signal a chick testing wing strength inside, but then all would go still. It started to rain so I packed my stuff haphazardly and went to the level below, which has a great view of the nest and cover from the rain. I set back up and waited.

A puff of debris flew up again and then, at 10:38am, a chick. A CHICK!!! He screeched, squawked, tooted and made a general racket while he strutted up and down the ledge, flapping his wings wildly. A couple of times, I seriously thought he was going to flap himself right off the ledge, but he kept his footing. I noticed it had stopped raining and, grinning from ear to ear, I packed my stuff back up and went back to the garage roof.

James was standing post and I noticed he was digging in his pockets excitedly, dropping things on the ground and laughing.

“James!” I called.

He turned around and threw up his hands. “There you are!! There’s a baby! That’s a baby, right?!? There’s a baby and you weren’t here! I thought, ‘she was just here!!’ but you weren’t here and there was a baby! I was trying to find your card so I could call! That IS a baby isn’t it?”

I laughed and joined him at his post. We watched the baby strut and flap and make noise and strut again. My cell rang. It was Dan! “We’re all up here watching! Someone has said they definitely see four! But one is on the ledge!”

I was so taken by the little guy that I took about a thousand pictures, many of which you can see in the flickr set.

For the next few hours, I chatted with various people while watching the male chick pace his new territory. James came up a few times. Tom stopped up. Mary and Dan called. I called Sean. At 1:22pm, a second chick hopped up on the ledge!

This settled the question, at least in my mind, regarding whether the male was a male. The second chick was markedly larger than the first. As well – and I don’t mean this as a gender marker observation, simply a general observation – the second chick seemed less … hyper. She jumped up, glared out and then promptly turned her back on the world while her brother continued to flap and squawk. I wonder what it was like being trapped in a nest for a month with that little ball of energy.

Finally, at 1:43pm, the third chick joined her siblings on the ledge. And what a hulking specimen she was. Instantly, she assumed Pose: Vulture and glared, like her sister, out at the world while trying to ignore her little brother, who’s ledge real estate had dwindled past his liking. He shoved past his sisters, trying to maintain his energetic exercises, but they simply stood ground, finally trapping him between them. I have to say, he seemed a bit put out by this turn of events.

In looking at the pictures I took and reading a description of chicks at day 35, I see that my timing was probably pretty sound on the hatch date. According to the literature, Over this last week, the chicks should have mostly feathered out, but large, conspicuous patches of down may be around the legs, under the wings and on the crown. They do a lot of preening as they actively pick out their down. Their activity levels and constant vocalizations pretty much drive the parents from the nest. They rarely visit, except to drop off food. Flapping and hopping around the nest might start to occur as the young begin building wing muscles. You can see this stage here.

And what of Max and Hercules? Hercules still perched a few niches to the west, considerably calmed. Max took off to the south between the second and third chick’s appearance and returned at 2:05pm with food. I did not get a chance to see what he had as the chicks virtually swarmed him as soon as his talons touched the nest ledge and he hurriedly dropped into the nest. One by one, the chicks dropped in after him. He came back out moments later and, with one look back down into the nest, took a leap from the ledge and cruised up to the skyperch.

I looked at my watch and blanched. My mother-in-law, Suzy, was flying into O’hare from Colorado to stay the weekend and I hadn’t cleaned the house yet. Her plane touched down at 6pm, putting her downtown at 7pm, so I packed my things, bid goodbye to James and Tom and headed home to attend to the domestic front. Exciting day!

Note: this series of pictures is grainy, I know. The weather did not provide ideal lighting and the niches, almost always in dark shadow, don’t photograph well even under perfect circumstances.

Posted in Chicago MCC

I glimpsed my first physical sign of chick(s) this morning. For weeks, I’ve heard them vocalizing when Max and Herc bring food to the nest. But today, I actually saw a flicker of wing tip.

Max and Herc were nowhere in sight as I crossed the garage to my favorite viewing spot. The nest, however, burst with activity and noise. I closed my eyes and listened hard, detecting what I thought might be two voices rising and falling in excited squawks and beeps.

Every few minutes or so, large clouds of feathers and debris puffed out of the nest entrance. If you click on the picture above to access the larger version, the debris is easy to see. I watched closely during one of these feather flurries and saw the black tip of a wing flicker in and out of sight as a chick inside beat his/her wings furiously in an attempt to get out of the nest and onto the ledge. Thanks to Dan giving me an opportunity to view the nest from far above, I knew that it was about a 3-4 foot drop from the nest ledge to the nest bottom.

After awhile, I looked up and noticed Max sitting on the skyperch and Herc on the Monadnock perch. Herc rested, feathers puffed out, one leg up and with one eye closed and the other open, watching the nest. For the hour I spent on the garage top, this feather flurry event replayed again and again.

My cell rang. Dan greeted and excitedly told me that he and some coworkers were watching from above and could see a baby fluttering around in the nest and another sitting quietly to the side. So, two confirmed! A co-worker of Dan’s, Ed, confirmed four. Everybody is excitedly looking forward to seeing the chicks out on the ledge.

As I was packing up to go to work, James and Tom came up to watch the debris fly. They laughed and laughed and both agreed that it was high time we all get to see the babies! Can’t wait!

With all this hubbub, it shouldn’t be long now. Maybe even this weekend?

Posted in Chicago MCC

I entered today in a completely stunned and horrible place. Sunday night, at 2am, our 11-year old cat Equus jumped from where he was cuddled on our feet at the end of our bed. I saw him slink across the living room and got up to see what had spooked him. When I got to him, I instantly knew something was horribly wrong. I took him into the bathroom and woke Sean up. Over the next half hour, Q had 3 grand mal seizures. We immediately took him to the Emergency Vet hospital where they sedated him and took X-rays. He was in perfect health as far as x-rays and blood work showed. At 7am, we transferred him to our vet of 8 years and good friend Dr. Bruederle (Dr. B.) at the Burnham Park Animal Hospital, 4 blocks from our house. We had to put Q down at 4pm that day, Monday. Although we will never know for absolute sure, Dr. B., the emergency vet and we all thought Q had suffered a massive stroke or brain embolism. I can say that when I touched him that first few seconds after he jumped off the bed, I knew he was gone. His body was still moving, but Q, my friend and a cat I knew better than I know most people, was already gone. He never came back, so it was a mercy to put his body to rest as well as tragic as it was.

I have never been closer to an animal in my life than I was with Equus. Q’s brother, Elijah, died last year of liver cancer. He was very, very close to Sean. We adopted our boys from Harmony House in 1995, three months after I’d moved to Chicago and in with Sean. Their litter had been abandoned by the mother and all of the kittens were in very, very poor condition. In fact, some of them died. We knew that our boys might not live to be 18 or 19, but we gave them every bit of extra special care during the years they were with us to maintain maximum health and happiness.

Sean and I have never been without our boys. This is going to take a long, long time to recover from, I think. We are still grieving very heavily and will be for awhile. As I’ve said before, deep grief comes because of deep love and I will never regret how close Sean and I felt to our two boys and how deeply loved they both were.

So, honestly, I was about as depressed as I’ve ever been when I trudged to the garage on Tuesday morning. As soon as I got there, I gave a silent “thanks” to Mary Hennen for inviting me to be part of the falcon project. Watching those beautiful birds in flight gave me much needed respite from my grief – just a little bit of an uplift, enough to go on with my day.

And then things got even a little nicer. As I was watching Max take a cardinal into the nest, my cell rang. The caller was Dan Cozza from the EPA, which has offices in the building immediately to the west of the garage. The building, in fact, oft mentioned in this very journal as the “skyperch.”

He and a couple of workmates were looking out the window and saw me up there. Mary had given Dan my contact info, so he rang and then came down to watch falcons and chat. We had a great conversation and I made new EPA friends!

As I started to pack my things in order to leave for the museum, Dan asked me if I’d like to come up to the EPA offices and get a look down into the nest. My God, yes! I’d wondered daily what the nest looked like! He took me up to the 15th floor. Later, we went to the 19th floor. For the first time, I gazed into the peregrine inner sanctum. Unlike I’d pictured it, the niches were not connected – both top and bottom were heavy grates. You could see where Max and Herc were caching prey in several of the niches, but the nest niche itself was, literally, full of feathers, droppings and other debris. The pictures I took were terrible, since they were taken through polarized glass. Near the end of my visit, we actually saw a chick near the back of the nest. My first sighting of chicks! Or, rather, chick! Dan said that they’d counted three, maybe four, chicks.

Even in my stellarly low mood, I was elated. I can thank Dan, the EPA, Mary and peregrines for that much needed boost. As I was up there, I got to meet many of the EPA workers who watch the birds. Everyone was amazingly nice and I was shown pictures, drawings and other renditions of the jailbirds that the EPA folks had done over the years. What a treat.

Finally, it was time to bid Dan and co-workers farewell and toddle on into work. New friends are very cool.

One of the many things Dan Cozza and I talked about as we stood on the garage top watching the falcons was how peregrines hunt. As I’ve mentioned before, I have beyond a weak stomach when it comes to animal suffering. I mentioned to Dan how very efficient peregrines seem to be and how I’d hardly ever seen either of the MCC adults bring in live prey. Dan asked me why that was the case.

After giving it some thought, I noted that the only times I’d seen either Max or Herc with live prey was when they caught the prey opportunistically. “That may be the reason. At least, that’d be my guess, but I don’t know for sure. I’ll have to ask Mary what she thinks,” I said.

In my observations, the normal prey catch is as follows: Peregrine spots prey bird far below. Peregrine tucks into a dive of alarming speed. Peregrine hits prey bird with forceful impact, killing it instantly. Peregrine deftly plucks prey bird from the air. Peregrine takes the very dead bird to a perch to eat.

I’ve seen it a number of times and written of it here a number of times.

The opportunistic prey catch is as follows: Prey bird flies through the air mulling over some problem or entertainment rather than watching where it is going. Peregrine flies through the air on a perpendicular course, attention similarly not on current air traffic. The courses of prey bird and peregrine intersect. Prey bird looks shocked, puts on the brakes and reverses course in one spastic movement. Peregrine looks stunned that it almost collided with something and wobbles awkwardly as prey bird speeds off. Peregrine finally gives chase. A wild, zig-zagging pursuit ensues. Peregrine manages to catch prey when prey does something stupid, like run into a skyscraper. Peregrine takes very/mostly/not very live prey to perch and summarily bites its head off, still looking a bit shocked at the events that just transpired.

“This,” says me, “is kind of rare, from what I’ve seen. Usually it’s just live bird, bing-bang-boom, dead bird.”

I got this email from Dan late in the afternoon:

“Steph — It was nice to finally meet you this morning. Please let me know if you need to gain access to the EPA building floors in the future. One thing that we talked about on the garage was that you said how the peregrines usually kill their prey instantly so there is very little pain to the prey as they do not know what hit them. Right before my lunch today, a coworker and I were looking out over the prison plaza when from E-W, the male flew right past our window and landed on the board of trade building to the immediate west. It was holding a still flapping pigeon. Max made a crude landing on the board of trade and was immediately joined by Hercules, who took the still flapping pigeon from Max. The pigeon made a fuss for about 2-3 more minutes while Hercules tried to keep it steady, but it made her hop around the roof top a bit, as it tried its futile attempt to escape. Finally, Hercules had her way with it and dispatched it by placing her left talon on the pigeon’s head while ripping out its neck and chest. This was great to watch right before I went to lunch — Dan.”

Huh.

Just a personal observation. If I were a prey bird, I’d be opportunistically killed by a peregrine. I’m just that kind of space cadet.

Posted in Chicago MCC

I didn’t break the bank too badly at the book fair yesterday. I got Sean some cool baseball books and myself a book or two as well.

So, over to the garage again this morning, where Max treated (?) me to an interesting prey catch. He caught a juvenile seagull.

I’ve seen the adults harry a seagull before. I think I even reported that here. So, when I saw Max tracking a seagull below him, I thought it might be the same thing. But, when he went into a dive, I knew he wasn’t playing around.

He hit the seagull very hard right as they went over the Federal garage. Feathers flew. The seagull went limp and fell. Max dipped and caught the seagull. And kept on dropping. The damned seagull was about as big as he was.

Over traffic. Over book stalls. Over the heads of excited bibliophiles sprinting across Congress for first crack at the vendors. Over thousands of people who never considered looking up, Max dropped, seagull in talon. And I held my breath.

On a collision course with the ugly brick facade of the AT&T building, Max pumped his wings, trying to gain altitude. Finally, realizing he wouldn’t make it, he veered to the west and swung around. On his next try, he made it to the top, landing on the edge.

For the next 40 minutes, I watched him pluck that seagull. He really put himself to the task with … verve. Finally, he hit paydirt and I stopped watching as his beak reddened. Did anyone below wonder why it rained feathers for a time?

I dropped over in the afternoon just in time to see Max catch a large pigeon. Hercules was barely visible on the top of a bay window outcrop at the top of a skyscraper (which I think is a hotel) to the SE. Max landed on the ledge, snipped the head off and then plucked for a good while before he grabbed the “prepared” pigeon and hopped around with it for awhile.

It almost looked like he couldn’t find a suitable place to snack. After hopping to and fro, he finally took off again and landed on the nest ledge where he dropped in. He emerged a few minutes later sans pigeon. Guess he wasn’t that hungry.

Chick Development: Our chicks should be about half down-covered and half feathered. Since waaaay back at day 22, there have been a lot of changes. The chicks are more likely to stand and rest while on their feet. The mustache or tears of black behind the eye has become more striking. They’ve also hit their full growth. You can see this stage here.

Posted in Chicago MCC