[Bristol-Birds] a Peregrine at Musick's Campground -- prey persuit and capture
- From: "Wallace Coffey" <jwcoffey@xxxxxxxxxx>
- To: "Bristol-birds" <bristol-birds@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Sun, 26 Sep 2010 21:40:27 -0400
Musick's Campground
South Holston Lake
Sullivan Co., TN
26 Sept 2010
4:30 p.m.
One of my more enjoyable hunting observations of a
Peregrine Falcon unfolded under a cloudy sky with
some haze, perhaps a few hundred yards SW of
Musick's Campground, Sunday afternoon.
I had just noticed a half-hearted aerial dogfight with
two Turkey Vultures somewhat skirmishing the
falcon. The three were swirling at several hundred
feet above Painter Creek Rd. near the driveway
leading to the TWRA launch ramp.
The Peregrine rolled out of the sparing and began
to quickly ascend. Well above the falcon, a small
bird was flying quickly towards Painter Creek
Marina. It appeared to be a swallow.
In an apparent dead-on-radar approach, the
Peregrine went straight for the capture but missed.
The prey swept directly down and entered
a dive with wings folded. The big raptor easily
banked and stooped into a lightning-bolt dive.
It all seemed hopeless for the swallow until the
falcon flashed its talons and missed point blank.
Nothing could be seen but Peregrine and then
the small bird appeared again, climbing higher
and higher. Surprisingly, the falcon was able
to fly almost vertically with amazing quickness,
easily closing in on its target.
The next strike seemed as if a certain
success for the Peregrine until the escaping
swallow again began to speed downward on
folded wings.
I estimated the pursuit was taking place at
about 500+ feet above ground (as low
as the FAA allows small aircraft to fly without
special permission or purpose).
Now I was amazed that the deadly part of
this scene was not the famous high-speed
dives and strike of the Peregrine. This bird
was not all that successful. The big bird's
advantage was the speed either going up
or coming down!
The apparent victim was at its best in dodging
each close encounter and especially at the scary
speed with which the Peregrine closed in to strike
near the end of its dives. Each time, the small
bird flipped away as the falcon reached with
its talons.
It was beginning to appear that the large falcon
was no match. It seemed like a child running
at full speed to try and catch a lightning bug.
This went on for several minutes with perhaps
eight or ten attempted strikes.
The Peregrine's advantage was not only wing
speed but its ability to strike at the prey and then
quickly roll past and below it to chase it up
again. On one attempt, the treetops were so
close I was almost certain the swallow would
simply get another 50 feet down into the crown
but the falcon darted close over the trees to
easily turn the pursuit higher and higher.
As if calculated, the Peregrine finally began
to slow its upward climb behind the escaping
prey. In what would remind you of a Cooper's
Hawk or Sharp-shinned Hawk. The falcon
became more deliberate but more slowly climbing
towards the eventual meal.
The small bird flew higher still but was either
tiring or could not determine a safe way to
flee.
As precisely as picking an apple, the Peregrine
rolled back and struck one more time. I could
no longer see the prey and it was obviously
over.
On a long approach like a massive jet lumbering
towards the runway, the Peregrine came down,
down, down in several leveling attempts. It was
coming directly at me on the outer banks of the
campground. Now it was apparent it would
pick a nearby branch but it dropped lower and
more directly towards me.
My heart began to beat a little quicker with the
anticipation it was going to land on the shoreline
within yards of me and begin to feast.
Here it flew not more than a hundred feet past
me with a very deliberate, deep wing beat. It
paused in a glide to reach down and tear away
a piece of flesh to bolt as it passed.
So close and so vivid, it was apparent this was
at least a female or young male -- plumage
brown. It's effort to catch the prey might be
a result of significant hunger and probably less
skill than an older adult.
There was no doubt at this point, the falcon had
caught something like a shorebird, maybe the size
of a Spotted Sandpiper or perhaps even a bit
larger. It was not a heavy load for the falcon but
it appeared a great deal larger hanging from the
raptor's feet and dangling in the air than any
swallow. For that matter, I had seen no swallows.
What happened to that tiny swallow look I thought
I was seeing ?
As the bird flew past, it turned its head and looked
at me from what appeared to be maybe a 150
feet away.
It left over the main channel towards the forest
land across the lake. It took two or three more
bites from its food. I have measure its flight path
and it appeared to travel about 3 miles along the
shoreline, always in Tennessee, and generally
not more than a hundred feet over the water.
Thinking of my friends at the Mendota Fire Tower
hawk watch, I was able to judge that it could be
seen with the naked eye when it was about a
half mile away. It caught one updraft after another
and flew on south down the reservoir. As it
spiraled on thermals it flew higher and higher
reaching somewhere in the 500 to 1000 feet of
elevation above the water. Somewhere in the
spans of a half mile to a mile it could still be
seen in my binoculars but you could not tell if
it was a falcon or whatever. Yet, I knew.
"Let my heart be still a moment and this
mystery explore" -- Edgar Allen Poe (1845)
Let's go birding . . . .
Wallace Coffey
Bristol, TN
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