March 25, 2008

 

RIVER WATCHER

 

THE CRY OF THE RED-TAIL

 

Rex Burress

 

Bird watchers and country residents are well aware of the shrill cry of the red-tailed hawk. One was thrilling out that sound of the wild one day when I was in Gray Lodge Refuge, and there seemed to be another hawk involved. There may have been overtures to a mate as spring was approaching, or it could have been simply a cry of delight at being near an edible concentration of birds, migrants coming and going, and some staying around to nest.

 

The red-tail call is one of the most stirring sounds in nature. It reverberates with all the primitiveness and evolutionary agonies and successes of survival achieved down through the ages, and denotes a voice for the wilderness and the need for space in the lives of wild creatures.

 

Red-tails spend a lot of time soaring and seeing, scanning earthy tangles for the flash of a mouse. At that far height one wonders how they can spot such diminutive targets, which speaks of their accelerated eyesight. They are keen to spot movement, a habit they have inherited, and as with their hunting prowess, " they know without knowing they know," as John Burroughs said.

 

The chunky buteos (Buteo jamaicensis) also spend hours just perching in favorite trees. Once they have quenched their hunger, there is time to simply watch the world go by. What nature watchers they would make...if only they could record their observations! They could tell us about the antics of Buster the Coyote, or Snooper the Mink, and the daytime lair of Bobby Bobcat. Their keen comprehension could also inform us of the hiding deer, or secret caves up on the Sutter Buttes. How conveniently they could search for Indian remnants, or even valuable rock sites on the mountainsides. Alas! They have the power of flight and mankind has the power of written records, two dimensions far apart.

 

Undoubtedly a red-tail can tell the difference between neighbors. To the binocular toters, a red-tail is a red-tail, except for the blotched markings of the juveniles and variables in different locations. Apart from that, individuals seem quite the same in shape and habits, and all adults have red tails except for the rare Harlanís phase.

 

The red-tailsís call of the wild is one of those sounds that brings us in tune with the sense of primeval association when fang and claw hovered over creatures great and small. The haunting honk of the wild goose, the scream of a mountain lion, even the wind singing through the pine trees, are all hints of the wild present long before the coming of machines.

 

The hawkís glory is when they lift to the spacious skies to spiral over the landscape in a gust of freedom. The birds of prey are symbolic of independence and the freedom of choice...as long as they have the space to soar and ability to choose their nesting sites and productive lands where they can make a living. Is that not the object of most living things? Simply to live and react to the environment as dictated over vast spans of time?

 

"There be...things which are too wonderful for me...

 

The way of an eagle in the air..."

 

ñProverbs 30:18