Raptor Counting with HawkWatch, Part One
Pressing both eyes into his binoculars to peer at a flying object so far away it is not visible to the naked eye, Jerry Liguori calls out: 'Kestrel, over the Pequops, adult male.'
Looking another second at the hawk, he drops the binoculars and punches a multi-buttoned tabulator on a makeshift table here on Goshute Mountain, 9,000 feet high. Probably about a minute later I see what may be that kestrel as it zooms by, but by that point Liguori has picked up his binoculars and spotted a half-dozen more birds headed south. Shielding his eyes with a floppy broad-brimmed hat and draping red bandanna, he scans the sky and horizon northeast again. There are kestrels, males and females of unidentifiable age, sharp-shinned hawks over ridges to the north, a rare turkey vulture and Cooper's hawks and Swainson's hawks. In all, on this cloudless Saturday, over 1,600 raptors will be counted.
This is the 21st year Salt Lake City-based HawkWatch International has stationed volunteers, college students and raptor experts atop Goshute Mountain to count birds during the seasonal southward migration. That length of time makes the site, which sits about 25 miles due south of Wendover along the Utah-Nevada border, one of the best in North America for gauging the health of raptor populations.
The counting season, which typically lasts from mid-August until late-October, involves not just sharp eyes, good bird identification skills and altitude-adjusted lungs but also the sort of detailed logistics sufficient support a dozen or so counters - most of them in their 20s and 30s and almost all of them holding at least one college degree - on top of a mountain for a full season, through blinding sun, shivering cold and driving rain and snow.
But more than that, perhaps, it offers a chance to see a bunch of wildly beautiful birds up very close, and a glimpse into the rarefied world that raptors inhabit.
The reason for the count, said HawkWatch executive director Howard Gross as we stand atop the windswept mountain, is to gauge the health not just of bird populations but also of the environment in general. Raptors prey on a variety of animals, fly from one country to another, and are easily affected by pollutants or habitat degradation. Therefore, counts such as the one on Goshute Mountain offer a snapshot of the health of the roughly 17 species who fly by each fall.
Goshute Mountain is a focal point for counting due to its unique geographical setting. Northwest winds push the birds gradually east as they make their way south. But past the Goshutes lie the Bonneville Salt Flats - a dry area birds want to avoid. Trying to keep along the ridge tops and being pushed by upslope winds, almost all hawks end up flying over the peak, most at 20, 30 or even 40 miles per hour. They appear as a dot in binoculars for a few minutes, then come sailing by, some just feet above the observers. Wildlife observers call this the Intermountain flyway.
Big Sky Country: The Rarefied World of Raptors
My friend Laura Patterson and I stand looking north, watching the hawks descend toward and past the peak like shooting stars. But as much as we look out for the hawks we also spend a lot of time just looking. I don't know how many of you have ever stood on top of a mountain but I have stood atop a bundle yet don't think I will ever entirely get used to it. From the peak, one mile down the valley curves away at weird fish-eye lens angles, lonely dirt roads cross playas and cow trails lead to water tanks. To the east, the salt flats shimmer, Deseret Peak near Grantsville sparkles along the horizon, and Interstate 80 is but a thin line on the desert. South, high peaks like Moriah, Schell and Wheeler poke skyward. Westward, the Ruby (one great mountain range, should you ever make it to Nevada), Independence, Peqoup and Humboldt mountains fade into the horizon. To the north, Pilot Peak is the beginning of hundreds of peaks that lead to Idaho. On this particular Saturday afternoon a patchwork of cloud and shadow blanket the surrounding 100,000 square miles - most of it devoid of humans - and virga cut across the sky.
Identifying the birds is much more complicated than seeing what color they are and then comparing that image to a picture in an identification book. Since the hawks are often so far away and backlighted against sky, clouds or mountainside they usually appear in relief, devoid of color. Identification then comes down to factors like stability in flight and proportional differences in head size, wing angle and tail length and width. Making an identification under these conditions take years of experience, said Gross, 'and a mind like a flow chart.' Liguori, who is from New Jersey, apparently has one of those mind. He once spent over 1,000 hours counting hawks from a site at Cape May, N. J., counting every day from August 15 to November 30 - save one, when he went to his brother's wedding. 'It killed me,' he said of the day off. 'I felt like I was missing something.'
Check in next Monday for the second half of this story ...
For more information, call HawkWatch at (801) 484-6808 or see their website.
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