Hawk Mountain: 1954

A few weeks back, I made a series of posts about Hawk Mountain, the iconic raptor-watching sanctuary in eastern Pennsylvania. This prompted a wonderful note from Dr. Bernie Master of Worthington, Ohio, and I've copied his message in its entirety below. His note got me to thinking about the impact that the Mountain has certainly had on several generations of budding conservationists since its founding in 1934. Bernie was only 13 when he visited in 1954, the year that the photos that follow were made. He was already well on the path to a life-long fascination with natural history, but I suspect the visit to Hawk Mountain only reinforced his interests.

Countless kids have visited Hawk Mountain, and a great many of them must have been infused with curiosity about the natural world on its summit. It's hard not to be, when a Peregrine Falcon strafes by a stone's throw away, or a testosterone-filled Sharp-shinned Hawk swipes at a comparatively sluggish Red-tailed Hawk right overhead.

In Bernie's case, he has gone on to see more of the world's birds than all but a handful of people, has served on the boards of numerous conservation groups such as The Nature Conservancy, American Birding Association, and American Bird Conservancy, and supported an array of research and education iniatives.

Places like Hawk Mountain are worth their weight in gold, not just because of the habitat that they protect, but because of the minds, young and old, that they help to stimulate.

Jim,

Your blog on your visit to Hawk Mt. stirred some old memories of my first visit in 1954. I dug out some photos of this visit.I am shown with my father, Dr. Gilbert Master and our friends, Dr. Bob and Mrs.Nora Katrins at the entrance, the knob and at the base feeding Mute Swans.You can see there were many birders back then. I was 13 at the time. The experienced birders would call out the ID of the raptors as they came toward the crowd over 1 of 3 mountain tops, calling out the bird and 1,2,or,3 so you knew where to look. I vividly remember seeing a Red-tail and a Goshawk come by that day. The best part of the trip though were the meat loaf sandwiches my mother made for us.I am using my Uncle Vince's German binoculars he brought home from WWII, pretty good optics for back then. My dad knew Maurice Broun, the first director of Hawk Mt. and I remember spending birding time with him.Thanks for awakening so many good memories.

Bernie

Atop Hawk Mountain

In my last post, we left off partway up the trail to the summit of Hawk Mountain, high in the Kittatinny Ridges of Pennsylvania. Well, we're almost there, our goal being the fabled North Lookout, the best place to watch for raptors drifting south along the crests of the mountain.

Your blogger in repose, staring up at hawks passing overhead. The trick here is to find the softest available rocks, fluff them up a bit, and settle in. The view from North Lookout is stunning, and one can see for seventeen miles on a clear day.

You'll have plenty of company atop Hawk Mountain. Drawn by the allure of birds of prey, hundreds of spectators descend on the place on fall days. There are people of every stripe and ability, from hotshot birders that can ID distant specks, to those that didn't know of the existence of a Sharp-shinned Hawk prior to their visit.

Note the pole thrusting skyward in the upper right corner of the photo.

That mast supports Bubo plasticus, a fake Great Horned Owl spackled in real feathers. The thing looks real, and I heard one newbie shout out "Owl!" upon emerging onto the rocks and spotting the dummy.

Why a fake owl? To give the raptors passing by a target to strafe, and provide an incredible show for the assembled throng. Sharp-shinned Hawks in particular will drop from the sky and roar in at top speed, and give the owl a smack. When you're perched on the rocks 20 feet away, this is quite the dramatic show. I think that mounting a cam on the owl would be cool, as enough birds of prey take a swipe at this thing that awesome footage would be guaranteed.

Skies of azure; not a cloud to be seen. This is the sort of weather people fawn over, and it brings the masses out to relish a spectacular autumn day. But, clear skies are not optimal for raptor-watching. The birds tend to soar high aloft - probably too high for our eyes to see in some cases - and they don't show up as readily even when in sight. Best is an overcast sky; the birds pop out much better against a gray backdrop.

Plenty of Turkey Vultures roamed the area, and I spent many a pixel trying to capture them with my camera. Since I was a little kid, I've admired these carrion-scrapers. Wouldn't want to be one, but only because of the dietary regime. But it's hard to top the flying abilities of vultures, and I still like to watch them as they gently rock through the sky on dihedral wings, taking nary a flap for miles. On top of Hawk Mountain, ones gets the unusual perspective of often looking DOWN on the vultures.

Far less common are Black Vultures, but a few are going to wing by. They're quite different beasts from the Turkeys, in appearance and temperament. They look like a large flying wing, due to the short tail, and the base of the primaries sport conspicuous white flashes. Black Vultures also have a curious habit of dangling their feet while they fly.

No bird, and I mean NO BIRD elicited the reaction that this one did. Hardened veteran birders may inwardly ho-hum, but it's important to remember that most visitors to Hawk Mountain and many famed birding locales are NOT experts. Thus, when this gorgeous adult Bald Eagle soared over, at great height, the collective reaction was tremendous. As if sensing its earthbound admirers, the eagle coasted majestically right over our heads, and many an ooh and ahh was heard. A record number of Bald Eagles has been seen this fall at Hawk Mountain, and the final total should be well into the 300's.

My favorite, the pint-sized Sharp-shinned Hawk. What they lack in size, they more than compensate for with sheer attitude and chutzpah. These accipiters are feathered balls of testosterone, and so aggressive that I'm afraid it wouldn't be safe for us people to sit conspicuously atop Hawk Mountain were they the size of Whooping Cranes.

Like avian thugs, the sharpies routinely strafe their larger brethren, and this habit helps to identify them at great range. Basically, anything that comes within shouting distance of a sharp-shinned is liable to be attacked, and that long-suffering owl that I showed previously gets bombarded all of the time.

Why do they act this way? Some have speculated that Sharp-shinned Hawks suffer from a Napoleon complex, but I don't think so. These birds are natural born killers, and if you ever get up close and personal with one you'll see an untamable, savage ferocity gleaming from their eyes. Every fiber of their being strains to capture and kill other birds, and the hormones that make them this way constantly flow. I think they're so full of aggression that it's simply impossible for them to resist any opportunity to try and kick some butt, even if the target is a Red-tailed Hawk that doubles them in dimensions and weighs eight times as much.

Speaking of Red-tailed Hawks, we had plenty of fine specimens float over, including this smashing adult. It seems as if the occasional bird's curiosity is piqued by all of the people sitting on the rocks, and in they'll come for a close flyover. This red-tail appeared to be looking right at my camera as I photographed it.

It's not just raptors that fly by Hawk Mountain. We had tremendous numbers of Canada Geese winging past high overhead. The honking of the flocks could often be heard for well over a mile, alerting us to their impending appearance. Think what you may of Canada Geese, but there are few spectacles in the natural world as soul-stirring as a large skein of wild geese passing high overhead, winging south from Arctic breeding grounds. The age-old peregrinations of geese have drawn people's eyes aloft since the times of the ancients, firing our imaginations over the generations. This is probably one of the first birds that really got people pondering the mysteries of migration.

The Hawk Mountain daily toteboard. Click the photo and you should be able to read the results. The staff is good about promptly posting results, and the top gun hawk-watchers on the mountain's summit call observations in to the base camp every hour.

GO HERE for Hawk Mountain's website and up-to-date info. If you've not been, put it on your 2011 destination list.

A trip up Hawk Mountain

The beautiful, rustic visitor's center at Hawk Mountain in Kempton, Pennsylvania. Countless thousands of raptor enthusiasts have passed through these doors. Raptors, conservation, and Hawk Mountain are synonymous, and no place has become more steeped in legend than has the 2,600 acres that comprise this sanctuary.

Hawk mountain was an ENORMOUS gap in my list of travels, and it was indeed fulfilling to finally get there last weekend. As I usually do, I dug into the place, looking high and low, talking to staff, learning about the operation, and of course hawk-watched. It is a very impressive operation, completely privately funded, and their outreach work is amazing. I was inspired enough to join, and become one of the nearly 9,000 members.

The view from below, looking up at the main ridge at Hawk Mountain. We'll eventually work our way up to the second-highest hump, just right of center: the North Lookout.

But before climbing aloft, we've got to stop in at the visitor's center. It's a stunning building and filled with raptor-related goodies and exhibits. I do want to give kudos to the staff and volunteers - Hawk Mountain runs like a well-oiled machine, and this is entirely due to the seventeen staff members and their legion of volunteers. Everyone is unfailing polite and helpful; they make you want to support the place. It's a lot of work, too. A nice fall day in the peak of raptor migration might bring a thousand people or more, and managing everything is a handful.

This is a gruesome visual of the need for conservation, and the reason that Hawk Mountain Sanctuary came to be. Rows upon rows of raptors of many species, all shot from the skies from Kittatinny Ridge lookouts. Scores of men and boys would hike to the summits, and train their weapons on hawks streaming south along the crests of the mountains.

These slaughters became so prolific that some authorities estimate that as many as 30-40% of the birds that were attempting to migrate long the Kittatinny were gunned down in especially bad years. This carnage took place in the early 20th century, a time when raptors were widely regarded as vermin, and their importance in ecosystems was poorly understood.

Enter the human dynamo, Rosalie Edge. Singlehandedly at first, she labored tirelessly to stop the shooting of raptors, and eventually her efforts gained traction and support. Edge's work led to the establishment of Hawk Mountain Sanctuary in 1934, which not ironically was the same year that the Duck Stamp was created. The early half of the last century was a tough time for birds, and out of the gloom and doom of dust bowl era wetland losses and raptor persecution were spawned two of North America's most iconic conservation success stories.

Well, it's time to hit the trail, and we'll begin a 2/3rd mile long, 300 foot ascent up the path to the highest, best lookout. And learn a lot about geology along the way, whether we want to or not. These 500 million year old mountain crests are liberally strewn with ankle-breaker rocks and boulders. They lend enormous charm to the habitat, but also force one to watch their step.

My eye was frequently drawn to the artistically arrayed greenish blotches that adorned many of the stones. Perhaps to many they are just crusts of some sort, but I found that most were the elegant Rock Greenshield Lichen, Flavoparmelia baltimorensis.

The woods that cloak the Kittatinny ridges are lush Appalachian mixed mesophytic forests, filled with Tulip Tree, Yellow Birch, White and Red Oaks, underlain with Great Rhododendron and Mountain-laurel in places. The summits are dominated by tough Chestnut Oaks. I was delighted to notice a great many American Chestnut sprouts, still thrusting forth from old rootstock.

Historically, American Chestnut dominated in Appalachian forests, and its summertime blooming would turn mountain slopes whitish. An imported fungus known as Chestnut Blight was first found in New York in 1904, and the floodgates soon opened. By 1950, billions of trees had succumbed, and towering giants are almost unknown today. Sprouts, such as the one above, reach a certain height and are attacked, girdled, and killed by the blight.

Another botanical goodie that I was quite pleased to see was Striped Maple, Acer pensylvanicum, sometimes known as "Moosewood". It's quite the stunner, with big boston ivy-shaped leaves and that glorious green bark, liberally striped with cream. Striped Maple is endangered in Ohio, barely nipping into the northeast corner of the state, so for me it was like finding a treasure.

Anyway, we are just about to the rocky embattlements of the North Lookout, where one can see for seventeen miles across ridge and valley on blue days. I'll be back with big birds soon.

Hawk Mountain

I am at one of North America's most iconic birding locales, and one of the most important places in the history of American bird conservation.

Yesterday was decent atop this eastern Pennsylvania mountain, and I'm just about to head out the door for more. Got lots of neat photos, and more comprehensive posts will follow.