Hawk-squirrel drama unfolds in the 'burbsby Paul A. Smith, Outdoors Editor, JSOnlinePosted: Oct. 7, 2009
A Cooper's hawk flares its wings as it pursues a gray squirrel on a Norway maple tree
in suburban Milwaukee. Photo by Paul A. SmithHalf-tail was on its rounds outside my office, criss-crossing the patio with yet another walnut to bury.
I knew well the gray squirrel with the cleaved appendage. Its industrious habits made it easy to ignore the advertisements for fall lawn aeration.
I didn't know, though, what had shortened its furry rudder. A car? A dog? A fashion bent? I also wondered over recent weeks why it had such an attraction to walnuts and, perhaps more to the point, why it buried so many in our yard.
The nearest walnut tree was a couple blocks away and plenty of good acorns were within a short four-footed stroll.
But squirrels are nuts about nuts, often to their detriment, and its familiar presence in the yard had engendered empathy for its obsessive/compulsive behavior.
The brown lightning bolt struck seconds later.
Half-tail leaped to the side and a half-dozen house sparrows scattered.
The blur banked sharply and landed on a low limb, talons empty, red eyes searching.
If you're like me, you keep an eye out the window for whatever. For those of us who like to view wildlife, there is no off-day. We take it where we can find it, whether it's a trip to the mighty Mississippi or in our backyard.
Like many here in southeastern Wisconsin, I live minutes from downtown and miles from anyplace really wild.
That's no surprise: The landscape was designed for humans, not wildlife. You know, sidewalks, lawns, bricks and mortar.
And even though there's a park nearby and the neighborhood is visited by raccoons, opossums, red fox and the occasional deer and coyote, most of the wildlife is nocturnal and rarely seen.
The most common animals, the squirrels and rabbits and sparrows and robins, are largely habituated to humans and continue with their activities with all the wildness of a pastured dairy cow.
That's why it's a treat when a predator flashes some natural drama into our suburban lives.
The Cooper's hawk grasped the limb of the Norway maple and waited for the squirrel's next move.
Half-tail responded with either cunning counter-intuitiveness or Darwinian fatalism: The squirrel simply started digging.
The hawk wasted no time and flew to the ground, attempting to subdue dinner. The squirrel shrugged off the blow and ran up the maple.
Historically a bird of mature hardwood forests, the Cooper's hawk "adapted abruptly to city living in the last two decades of the 20th Century," according to a U.S. Fish and Wildlife report.
The birds are now found nesting throughout Wisconsin and the lower 48 states, according to recent studies. And in case you're wondering, yes, the Cooper's hawk is among the 99 confirmed species of birds that breed in Milwaukee County as listed in the Wisconsin Breeding Bird Atlas.
It's hasn't always been so rosy for the bird.
In "Birds of Prey of Wisconsin," Frances Hamerstrom wrote: "From 1962 through 1970 I knew of no Cooper's hawk breeding territories in central Wisconsin." The chief culprit was believed to be DDT, a pesticide that weakened the shells of bird eggs and resulted in devastatingly low nesting success among raptors through the middle part of the 20th century.
As recently as 1989, Cooper's hawks were on the state threatened species list.
But like coyotes and white-tailed deer, Cooper's hawks have adapted to modern conditions.
"They are breeding statewide now and it's a terrific thing to see," said Noel Cutright of West Bend, past president of the Wisconsin Society for Ornithology.
Terrific for most. Some bird aficionados don't care for the predator's habits in suburbia.
Cooper's hawks are one of the fighter pilots of the avian world, preferring to take their prey on the wing.
Most studies indicate that other birds make up 70% to 80 % of the Cooper's hawk diet, including popular song birds like Northern cardinals and juncos; mammals like squirrels, rabbits, rats and other rodents make up 12% to 17 %.
It’s not a large, soaring, hawk. Nor one you typically see sitting on power lines along highways.
"Coops" are about the size of a crow. If you get a good view, you may notice one of the bird's most distinct features - red eyes.
It also has relatively short, rounded wings and a long, slightly rounded tail, attributes that allow a degree of maneuverability Orville and Wilbur never dreamed possible.
As it glides, the Cooper’s hawk holds its wings straight out. With its head well in front of the wings and the long tail behind, it looks like a “flying cross.”
Their “flap-flap-glide” flight pattern had become well-known to me as they strafed bird feeders in and around my yard.
I’ve also seen a Cooper’s hawk sitting in the bird bath at my home. My distinct impression is that it wasn’t seeking relief from the heat.
At the moment, the Cooper's hawk in my world was exercising a ground attack. Half-tail had run down the tree and was renewing its quest to bury the nut.
The hawk spread its wings and hopped over to the gray bundle.
With what appeared to be more annoyance than fear, the squirrel bounded a few feet and resumed digging.
The hawk followed awkwardly. Perhaps this was the squirrel's strategy - keep the predator on unfamiliar terms.
Or maybe only instinct was at play: "Must bury food."
The hawk struck again with its talons at the squirrel's back. But this bird will never make the rodeo circuit.
Half-tail shook it off like a bob-tailed halfback and ran up a hawthorn.
For the next 15 minutes, the pursuit continued across the yard and up and down trees, the squirrel never relinquishing its grip on the walnut or its intent to bury.
This episode of suburban "Wild Kingdom" came to an abrupt end. A passing dog walker flushed the stalking hawk into the next block. Half-tail finished its task. The last I saw it was bounding east toward the walnut tree.
Now I may know what clipped Half-tail. And I have all the more reason to keep one eye on the yard.
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