{"id":10860,"date":"2017-11-24T12:54:38","date_gmt":"2017-11-24T19:54:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/birdaz.com\/blog\/?p=10860"},"modified":"2017-11-24T12:54:38","modified_gmt":"2017-11-24T19:54:38","slug":"fun-with-falcons","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/birdaz.com\/blog\/2017\/11\/24\/fun-with-falcons\/","title":{"rendered":"Fun With Falcons"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"American<\/a><\/p>\n

Winter is falcon season here in northern New Jersey, when our resident\u00a0peregrines\u00a0<\/strong>are joined by migrants of that same species,\u00a0merlins<\/strong>, and\u00a0American kestrels<\/strong>. For the most part, these fierce little bird-eaters manage to stay out of each other’s way. But not always.<\/p>\n

Wednesday dawned dim and dull, and that was pretty much how I felt that morning while I sat in the Trader Joe’s parking lot waiting for something to be bought that should have been bought the day before. Things brightened considerably, though, when I saw a\u00a0merlin\u00a0<\/strong>powering in from the south; the bird paused briefly, then knocked a small passerine — a house finch or a house sparrow — out of the sky. Suddenly a\u00a0peregrine\u00a0<\/strong>appeared, probably a local bird from the Highway 3 bridge. Distracted, the merlin chased the bigger bird, which wheeled\u00a0to defend itself. Wisely,\u00a0and uncharacteristically, the merlin opted for the better part of falconid valor and sped off, while the peregrine turned a leisurely victory circle before sailing back towards the east. That little bit of feathered breakfast is probably still lying, uneaten, on the roof of the Ticktock Diner.<\/p>\n

This morning’s show,\u00a0though less dramatic, was far more puzzling. The\u00a0monk parakeet\u00a0<\/strong>nest at Mill Creek Marsh had a bird perched atop it when I arrived — not a parrot, though, but a little male\u00a0American kestrel<\/strong>. As I watched, the kestrel fluttered down twice to briefly perch at what I assume were two separate entrances to the mass of sticks; apparently finding no one at home, or at least no one in reach of those tiny talons, he swooped back to the marsh and started to harry\u00a0the much bigger female\u00a0kestrel<\/strong>\u00a0that may or may not wind up sharing the winter territory with him. When I checked again half an hour later, two parakeets were perched next to the nest — but not on it — and it wasn’t hard to imagine the\u00a0green birds worrying just a little bit that there might be a feathered\u00a0fury waiting for them inside.<\/p>\n

Was the kestrel really hoping to snag a parakeet? (Hats off to his ambition if so.) Or was he simply exploring, perhaps having caught a mouse-like rustling from inside? Or did\u00a0the chance of finding some warmth in that bushel of tightly packed twigs and branches exercise another appeal on a chilly fall morning?<\/p>\n

Ideas?<\/p>\n