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Unforgettable Observations by Gustav A. Swanson

The inspiration for this account occurred at a social gathering where a new acquaintance, hearing that I had been interested in birds since childhood, asked, "What is the most unusual experience you have ever had with birds?" This started my thinking about interesting bird observations over many years. Here are some that are in competition for "most unusual." I won't try to put them in any logical sequence since they are unrelated.

The first two were on Bonaventure Island in June of 1937. This was my only visit to this famous birding area several miles off the Gaspé Peninsula in southeastern Quebec. We had contracted with a fisherman to take us out to the island early in the morning, and to return to pick us up late in the afternoon, but when we arrived we discovered at the top of the 200-foot cliff a pile of photographic equipment.

Looking down over the edge, we saw Cleveland Grant climbing up a rope ladder. He was there taking pictures for his lectures, and he invited us to stay overnight and showed us some of the bird highlights. One was a peregrine falcon nest that he was photographing in detail, and he let me spend several hours in the blind he had built to observe and photograph the birds from a distance of only 15 feet. The nest was on a ledge on a sheer cliff more than 200 feet high, and the blind was impressive, an A-frame made of heavy planks to provide the observer protection when the occasional rock broke loose from above.

The blind was reached by climbing a rope ladder down 75 feet from the top of the cliff; to keep the blind steady it was anchored by two steel cables secured to the base of the cliff, more than 100 feet down. It was an impressive engineering feat to build and locate the blind. I was properly appreciative, but what did I see from this perch that places the experience in the "most unusual" category?

Kittiwakes were among the commonest of the seabirds nesting on the island's cliffs, and the peregrine apparently found them the easiest prey, because when the female came several times with food for the half-grown young it was always a kittiwake that she brought. Yet within only a few yards of the peregrine nest were several kittiwake nests on ledges, and each had a parent incubating eggs. What seemed so remarkable to me was the fact that these incubating kittiwakes paid no attention, and were not the slightest bit disturbed, when the peregrine passed by them at arm's reach with a kittiwake in her talons. The hunting peregrines captured their kittiwake pretty far from their nest, and their kittiwake neighbors seemed to understand that they were in no danger.

On this same trip there was another unusual, to me, observation, this one involving gannets, which nested on the island's cliffs by the thousands. On the top of the island there was a long grassy slope that ended at the edge of the cliff, and during the time we were watching there was a strong breeze up the slope from the cliff edge. The gannets had discovered this breeze and slope and used the slope as a sort of playground. They flew to the upper end, then set their wings and glided down the slope only a few feet above the ground until they took off over the ocean when they reached the cliff edge. It was obviously play. There could be no other purpose, and it involved many dozens of birds while we watched them from a distance, fascinated.

Another unusual incident occurred in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado in the summer of 1972. We owned a cabin in the mountains for weekend use, so we traveled the road to it frequently, and often stopped to watch golden eagles along the way. On this occasion there were two immature eagles in our view. They could have been young of the year, because there was an eagle nest not far away.

While we were watching through the binoculars, the eagles, apparently independently, sighted a cottontail rabbit on the ground below. They were soaring at quite a height, certainly more than 300 feet up, and they both began a stoop to capture this delectable dinner. When they were only a few feet from the rabbit, which was running, they collided with each other and tumbled awkwardly to the ground as the rabbit scampered away! The eagles apparently were not injured, because they flew off in a moment, after regaining their equilibrium on the ground.

Soon after this incident we were hosting a symposium on raptors that was attended by Leslie Brown, from Kenya, the acknowledged world authority on golden eagles and other raptors, co-author of the two-volume work on eagles, hawks, and falcons of the world. He indicated that it was, indeed, unusual, and said that he had never seen such an encounter himself. He urged that I publish a note about it, so here it is.

The last of the unusual incidents I want to describe involved ring-necked pheasants in western Minnesota in 1940. C. Edward Carlson was one of my graduate students, and he was studying pheasants for his thesis research. (He later had a distinguished career with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, serving for a time as chief of wildlife research, and later as regional director.) We were together observing pheasants when the event occurred. We had seen and heard a cock pheasant crowing to announce his territory and had watched through binoculars from a distance as a hen joined the cock and they mated. The early morning peak of crowing was past, and the cock wandered in our direction, stopping occasionally to peck at something on the ground, apparently feeding.

The hen was still in sight, back at the point where the two had mated, and then another cock appeared from the nearby cover and began aggressively courting the hen. The original cock, now at least 100 feet from his hen, had not yet looked back so had not seen the two birds until the second cock had actually mounted the hen. Then he suddenly noticed what was going on, flew directly toward the mating pair, and struck the second cock in full-flight, abruptly interrupting the mating.

When we observe such incidents it is hard to avoid attributing human emotions and reactions to the birds, even though we well know that such anthropomorphisms are not scientific. Imagine what went on in the incubating kittiwake's mind when the peregrine came by with a just-killed kittiwake-studied indifference to something so unpleasant? Or imagine the pleasurable feelings of the gannets gliding down the slope-were they having fun? Were the two young eagles embarrassed when they collided just as the rabbit was within reach? Was the cock pheasant enraged at seeing a neighbor poaching on his preserve? It may not be scientific, but it is fun to speculate!