Have not had much to send to tweetsters-dome for a long time, but thought
today was worth a regulation trip report:

Clarice and I spent a half day in Samish land and had a howling day with the
pointy winged falcon raptors. But to begin with--no Eurokestrel. Went by
the last place she was seen four times today and never saw a feather. Did
notice the farmhouse on Bayview Edison near where she was last reported has
at least five fat farm cats. Hmm.

We did easily pick up five falcon species--a first for us in the U.S. I
wouldn't want to be a dunlin in the fields that day, although the five
(certain) peregrines we met were generally sunning and preening on the cross
bars and insulators. At the game dept. access at the west 90 I was watching
a large falcon (based on the size and flight pattern I'm sure it was another
peregrine, but this was a sunny day-- no fog-- and the glare from our low
winter sun was too much for me to see markings) flying south over the field
there to give the human duck hunters some competition. When it segued from
flying with just its wingtips to that wonderful full peregrine flap that
turns it into a smart bomb I saw two-- count them two-- other large falcons
slide into view in the upper left of my Bausch and Lomb field of view, and
my subject changed from a shallow power dive to an abrupt vertical climb to
put him/her in that same upper left hand corner. A falcon fight, with one
ball of energy taking on two.

Now, Clarice was, during this, sitting in the car listening to a tape of
Douglas Adams reading "A Hitchhiker's Guide to theGalaxy" and eating a
peanut butter sandwich. She was just getting to the part where Arthur Dent
has to deal with Ford Prefect explaining why it is perfectly normal for a
Georgian sofa to appear on the plains of prehuman Earth if you have a
space-time continuim rift; so I could have understood a little reluctance to
returning to a parallel universe. "Git out here-- Look at this!" Well, she
did, and quickly I might add, but do you think there was anything to look at
when there were two sets of eyes? Of course not. Another moment of no
confirmation in birding. All three protagionists split for wherever bird
atoms go when you look away.

We had already been buzzed by Bud Anderson: "Prairie up ahead, the gyr is on
her fence post." We had spent long, luxurious minutes studying the breast
feathers of "the" gyrfalcon yesterday, and had spied the prairie falcon the
last time we were here, so the thought of a mythical "five falcon not
including aplomado or common kestrel day" seemed as reasonable as anything
on the Doug Adams tape, so we started a serious falco chase.

We went north to the spot where just east of Samish Island where so many
birders (and hunters) have trespassed that there are now "forbidden" signs
and scoped another peregrine; a roadside birder said "Prairie at west 90".
Since the west 90 was so close that you would naturally say "Prairie right
there" we of course interpreted that to mean the east 90. We drove by both
of those looking at cross bars with no luck, until I spotted an erect shape
atop a fence post just south of the road east of the Samish mouth. Of
course this meant scoping straight in to the sun and us both saying "Yeah,
there is nothing about that bird that tells us it is not a prairie falcon."

So, we turned, looking at all the male harriers, and when we were pointing
away from the sun a small, very properly shaped, merlin with a package came
beating up to two eagle trees and one of the eagles seemed to think it
could lunch on both the merlin and its prey. This was entertaining enough,
but then a large brown falcon showed up and occupied the tree the eagle had
left. Looking back, there was no more erect shape on top of our fence post
in the sun. This of course necessitated driving wildly back west and finding
a spot on the shoulder to verify we had a look at the famous prairie.

Quick trip to Sunset and the gyr from yesterday was on one of the big fence
posts in the middle of the green stuff east of the two bends in Field Road
looking disdainfully at a couple of black labs. Bud arrived a second time
and so of course we asked for an easy Am. kestrel. But no, not even the old
faithfuls on D'Arcy were about. We headed for Josh Wilson and passed a socko
merlin on top of a pole, and on a hunch drove down D'Arcy on our own. There
it was, a typical Am. kestrel doing its wire thing. Five falcon species in 4
hours, and lots of individuals. Not to mention quite a few rough legs
sitting on those awful young hybrid cottonwoods.

A good day. A good thing. But no common kestrel. Maybe next time.

Jerry Broadus