It's amazing that we almost let this one slip away.
I have had the good fortune to experience about a dozen peregrines during my years of banding. They have a presence about them that is remarkable and unmistakable. To see one one flight will stop you in your tracks; whether in the powerful, purposeful strokes of level flight or in a heart-stopping stoop, nothing takes over the sky like a peregrine. You can't look away.
And yet we did. We stopped paying attention to what was happening in the world around us for a while, and almost let them disappear from our sight forever.
The story of the peregrine's near-extinction is well known. The "miracle" pesticide DDT went into widespread use in the 1940s and 50s, frequently used in aerial spraying for mosquitoes and tree pests. Staggering amounts were used, because if some is good, more is better, right? The pesticide built up in the environment and the food chain, and decimated bird populations.
Juvenile Peregrine Falcon, tundrius subspecies (with a very full crop). Note the light streaking on the breast, the large white cheek patch, and the pale crown.
It took a while to see the problems. It didn't kill most animals outright, but instead it built up in their fatty tissues and disrupted their ability to reproduce. Peregrines got concentrated doses that had come up through the food chain. Migration sites still saw adult birds coming through, but fewer and fewer juveniles and eventually the birds were wiped out east of the Mississippi and nearly extirpated from the west. Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring" shone a spotlight on the problem and sparked the the beginning of their recovery, along with the beginning of the modern enviromental movement.
Juvenile peregrine at nest site in Yosemite, days before fledging. This aerie was roughly 1500 feet above the valley floor.
Peregrines live their lofty status from day one. Their nest sites are chosen for their inaccessibility, tucked away on small ledges in massive cliff faces, often with water below to provide another barrier. The nest itself is a small hollow, scraped into the pebbles on the ledge. Just enough to keep them from rolling too far, and providing good drainage in their exposed environment. After a 35 day incubation and 35-40 days of growing into their amazing feathers, the young take flight and begin putting their innate skills to work. (The best description I heard for watching young peregrines fly is that it's like watching some 16-year-olds who just got the keys to a Ferrari.)
Juvenile peregrine. Look at those wings - built for speed and maneuverability. Within weeks, they have learned to command the sky just as well as their parents do.
It seems odd, at first, the the very embodiment of all that is wild should have become so comfortable in the most urban of settings. But the windswept corridors between skyscrapers in a business district are reminiscent of the the cliffs and canyons of their wild homes. (Unfortunately, nothing in their wild heritage prepares them for the combination of "hard" and "clear", so a number are killed or injured when they hit glass.) Bridges and other man-made structures are also used regularly.
Juvenile Peale's peregrine - note the heavy marking, very dark cheek patch and large size - this bird weighed nearly 1300g, getting close to the size of a small gyrfalcon.
Peregrines range worldwide, appearing on every continent except Antarctica. 22 subspecies have been identified, three of those with ranges in North America - Peale's, Anatum, and Tundrius. Peale's is the largest and darkest of the three, found in the Pacific Northwest; Anatum is the bird in the middle for both size and color, and is the most widespread, ranging across the continent; Tundrius is the smallest and lightest in color, and breeds in the tundra and into Greenland.
Juvenile anatum peregrine, showing moderate streaking, heavy mustache and dark flecks in the cheeks.
The three subspecies also have different migration strategies. Peale's peregrines are the least migratory of the group, rarely moving outside of their range, though a number do turn up further down the west coast every year. Anatum peregrines (once again the middle bird) are a mixed bag - some of the northern birds make long distance migrations, whereas others, especially those in more temperate areas, may stay on territory year round. Tundra birds are the most highly migratory, and can be seen in good numbers along the eastern flyway each year.
Adult anatum peregrine, in mid-molt. Note the newer breast feathers with a salmon-colored wash and faint streaking. This color is seen on adult anatums in fresh plumage. Tundra peregrines have bright white breasts; Peale's breasts are white, marked with heavier dark streaking. Note also the tomial "tooth" - the special bill adaptation that allows them to sever the cervical vertebrae of their prey with one quick bite... it's a quick way to dispatch them.
Peregrines have been tracked on some of the longest distance migrations of any species of bird, going nearly pole-to-pole, and are often seen far at sea, hundreds of miles from shore, during migration. They are well-built for long distance flight, with extraordinarily powerful flight muscles (a friend described it well - it's like a rottweiler with feathers), and long, tapered wings.
We are fortunate, indeed, that enough people recognized what a tragedy it would be to lose this wonderful bird and cared enough to keep them in our midst.
Juvenile anatum peregrine, Marin Headlands
I'm headed to Klamath very early next Saturday to do some eagle and waterfowl watching. Dawn Chorus will be guest-hosted by matching mole with a piece on Whooping Cranes. I probably won't have computer access until Monday night, but I will be looking forward to seeing it when I get back!
ps - Land of Enchantment reminds that next weekend is the Great Backyard Bird Count. Anyone can take part. (Looking at last year's map, it seems like the great plains and intermountain west could use more coverage... hint, hint to all who live there.)