Hey tweets, Yesterday my husband and I had a magical day. We drove out to
Stein Road to view the northern hawk-owl and found him right away, thanks
to droves of birders already assembled. I forget who first spotted this
bird, but whoever did, congrats and thanks. You did a hard thing. This bird
is not easy to spot, unless you have 15 scopes all pointing in the same
direction, with birders spilling out onto the roadway, cars parked
willy-nilly, and devil take the hindmost. It appears as an indistinct lump
attached to a scruffy pine tree. Now, how many times have you driven by a
tree like that and thought you were looking at a clump of needles, one of
those fungus-things you can draw on, a wayward branch, or a starling?

Anyway, once seen, never forgot. This bird is gorgeous. When we were
watching, two ravens came by and decided the owl has got to go. So they
dive-bombed it repeatedly. The owl stayed put, but it turned this way and
that, given us views from every angle. Then one raven landed on a branch
just below the owl, thinking to intimidate it. After all, the raven was
much bigger and definitely more raucous. In the human world, that's often
all it takes, right? But the owl just sat there, until the raven did or
said something that was too far out of line. Then the owl reached out and
tried to stab the raven. Prudently the raven flew off. It tried again, this
time on a higher branch, with the same result.

The light was okay, not great. Clouds at first, then the sun weakly
breaking through. Unfortunately, the sun was directly behind the owl. So my
husband and I decided to head off to Reifel to try for the goshawk,
thinking we would come back this way and catch the owl again. Fat chance -
who can bear to tear themselves away from Reifel that fast? Especially when
we saw *two* northern goshawks there?

Here's the story. We arrived at Reifel in a downpour and headed for the
warming room, where the heat of a wood stove and the pitter-patter of rain
made us wish for a couch, or even a soft floor. We kept peering out at the
clouds, telling each other they were definitely breaking up, but of course
they weren't. Finally we decided to just go for it. The rain had settled
into a slight drizzle, which a die-hard Seattleite wouldn't even classify
as rain. Barely wet. We started down the path heading right past the
warming room and took the first path to the left. We were absorbed with all
the sparrows, since we have lost sparrow abundance at the Fill. The rain
really had stopped, and all the birds were coming out to eat, despite the
fact that it was mid-afternoon. Then we came to a fork in the path, and I
happened to glance up. Perched right above my head was a juvenile goshawk,
with his tail and wings spread out as far as he could make them. He looked
like a speckled cormorant drying his feathers in the sun. We were so close
we could see every speckle. I will note that there is no white edge on his
tail - it's all worn off. The tail feathers are very ragged. His eyes are a
pale kind of tan color, and he is not shy of people staring at him from odd
positions (he was so directly above me that my scope was pointing almost
straight up, and I was bent over double with my head cricked up to look
through the eyepiece - why birders on watch don't make it onto "American's
Funniest Vidoes" more often is beyond me). Anyway, as I was struggling to
see every feather, John took off back to the entry to tell a group of
birders what we had found. While he was gone, the adult northern goshawk
came swooping in and perched right next to the juvenile, spreading her tail
and wings too.

The juvenile was spectacular, but the adult was pure perfection. I have
never in my life seen anything more beautiful. Such a delicate gray, such
fine barring, with intricate designs on every feather, such deep red eyes.

Naturally before any other birders could arrive, both birds flew off. But
they didn't fly far. They like to perch in three different trees that kind
of triangulate the ponds just behind the entry building. We waited in the
center of the this area, so when the sun came out just before dusk, we got
perfect views of both birds, one in one tree and the other in another. The
distance and angle allowed us to see the bold white eyebrows on the adult,
but the juvenile's eyebrows are really indistinct - you almost have to
imagine them there. This is what makes us think it is a male, with the
adult perhaps its mother. - Connie, Seattle

csidles at mail.isomedia.com