Peregrine Falcon makes kill!

 

As always, click the photo to enlarge

A Peregrine Falcon with a freshly hit Red-winged Blackbird. I would say "freshly killed", but as the falcon whacked it just seconds before I made this image, the bloody songbird might still be alive. Although I suspect the incredible impact of the strike killed it outright.

I went up to Hoover Reservoir in nearby Delaware County (Ohio) at first light on August 27 to take advantage of a beautifully sunny morning. I had tucked myself and the photo rig into some shoreline vegetation and was mostly shooting birds in flight in the perfect early morning light: terns, various shorebirds, cormorants and other waterbirds, an unseasonal Redhead, and others.

There was a small flock of Red-winged Blackbirds in the cottonwoods behind me, but that was mostly subliminal background noise. Suddenly, I heard/felt a loud WHOOSH!, and the entire atmosphere instantly changed. This falcon had shot over my head at warp speed, only about 20 feet up, in hot pursuit of the soon-to-be victim. While I stared slack-jawed, it hit the bird maybe 40-50 feet out and directly in front of me. Fortunately, I reacted in time to get on the falcon with my camera before the raptor disappeared with its meal. So intent was the falcon on its prey that I doubt it even noticed me when it shot over, probably in the triple digits in miles per hour. After the hit, and the prey was secured, the falcon turned right to the camera as if to say, "did you get that, ground-bound biped?"

I've had many memorable experiences with Peregrines over the years, but this was probably the second coolest, and the best for kill photos. The first best peregrine encounter happened years ago, before my hardcore photography days. I was walking a dike surrounding the wide-open wetlands of Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge on Lake Erie. It was fall, and scores of migrant sandpipers were resting and refueling on mudflats. I was stopped, scoping a flock of waders. Suddenly a hunting peregrine shot by at kneecap level probably ten feet from me and likely moving at triple digit speeds. It had employed a tactic known as contour-hunting – using obstructions to shield itself from prey until the last possible moment. I was the obstruction, apparently. As soon as the falcon passed me it was into a large flock of shorebirds and pandemonium ensued. It carved a sandpiper from the flock, and after a short aerial pursuit, caught it.