Bring on the Raptors!
The gale finally arrived. It’s 43 with a brisk southwest wind. In the east, a bank of heavy cloud, preceded by a wide band of clear sky. Overhead, roiling and threatening cumuli. A semi with two bands of ground-parallel yellow lights rumbles through the freeway overpass, heading south.
At 6:49 AM, the junkyard raven starts honking, overlapping the beeping of a work vehicle nearby. Trees are squeaking near and far. I move my stuff back under the porch when drops begin to fall. I don’t trust these clouds.
At 1 minute to seven, a Red-tailed Hawk soars up high into the bluing area of sky and begins to circle. The Carolina Wren goes off. Three Common Ravens appear around the towers, dancing, diving, circling, while a second redtail cruises in from the southwest. A House Finch begins to sing.
The eastern cloud bank holds steady, so the sun, almost here, is forced to circumvent it; this whole side of town is briefly bathed in an unearthly glow, while the storm clouds above and behind start to lighten up. For a minute or so before 7:10 sunrise time the ribs of the cloud bank are accented by scarlet.
The unceasing wind carries two ravens down the interstate south of me, while five Rock Pigeons are pushed below tree line in their commuting flight out through the Gap. The Black-capped Chickadee starts up at 7:11, and two American Crows are hurled west-east, high up, calling.
Return of the Icterids
Much to my surprise, a small mixed flock of Common Grackles and Red-winged Blackbirds arrive from out of town, from somewhere in the valleys to the east. I’ve not seen grackles since January 28 nor blackbirds since January 19, so I had assumed they had left the area for warmer and tastier valleys to the southeast somewhere. I wonder if these are holdovers, or new arrivals? I also wonder about their destination: I’m guessing the forested wetlands along Bald Eagle Creek between Tyrone and the village of Bald Eagle.
Kettle after Kettle
At 7:20, against a roiling sky that threatens but does not produce any rain, 13 Turkey Vultures appear in a swirling mass, with another one, an outlier, a few hundred yards away. They’re well above the altitude of the ridges, and emerged, not from the south as early migrants would, but from the northeast, behind the towers, as if this were fall. This is the largest kettle I’ve seen in 2023, and I suspect it is coming from a roost (or roosts) some 20 miles distant in the State College area, or farther, from Bellefonte, a small town and seat of the next county north, and the next water gap.
As the Turkey Vultures arrive to a position directly overhead, two ravens coast into their flock and being to circle with them. Not an unusual action for ravens, which often seem to be attracted to raptor kettles. The vultures are heading west-southwest, not down the spine of Sapsucker Ridge, but off across Logan/Tuckahoe Valley. They are heading directly into the wind: I wonder if they picked up aromas from that direction?
Black Vultures seem to think so. A kettle of 19—a new all-time high number of the species for Blair County—is hard on the heels of the Turkey Vultures, again the pinkish-purple sky. The species aren’t mixing, but the Blacks are clearing following the Turkeys. Given the olfactory inferiority of the smaller species, this isn’t surprising.
At 7:32, an adult Bald Eagle soars over heading southwest, on crooked wings against the gale. A male House Finch alights on the nearest fruit tree, singing as it sways, and a Common Raven, most likely JR, cruises west on 10th Street.
At 7:45, three Common Mergansers fly over northward, from the Gap, and another Bald Eagle appears, going south down Sapsucker Ridge. Species number 18, the Downy Woodpecker, calls at 7:48, as the spectacular light show begins to subside, and rays glow through the cloud bank.
The vultures aren’t done, though. Five more Turkeys arrive from the northeast, then six pop up from behind Sapsucker Ridge; all head southwest. As I head to work, three more Black Vultures are around the towers, bringing the dawn’s total to 22.