Birds of Prey in Watson Woods

A couple of weeks ago, I was struck by the kaleidoscope of colorful birds in Watson Woods in Prescott.  So when I returned this past weekend, I was anticipating one more look at an exotic menagerie of grosbeaks and tanagers.  While I quickly saw the brilliant yellow of a male Bullock's oriole, I was initially disappointed when I didn't find the same birds as last time.

Male Bullock's oriole.

There was a difference with this visit versus my last one, as I opted to enter the woods from the south in order to explore the 2/3 of the parkland I hadn't yet seen.  The groves of trees were not as dense, and there were more open fields of plants and wildflowers than I had seen a short distance to the north.   Violet green swallows were more prevalent in this open space, soaring and darting in twisting arcs above and around me.

Violet green swallow taking a break.

Bumblebee and wildflower in the fields at Watson Woods.

Not too long into my walk, I followed the sound of a sharp hoot coming from not too high in a cottonwood tree.  It was a Cooper's hawk perched on a thick limb, mostly peaceful except for its vocalizations.  Always happy to get shots of a bird of prey, I snapped away until it might have become irritated by my attention and flew away.   Only later, examining my photos, did I discover that I had interrupted his breakfast, as there's clearly some prey in his long, sharp talons.  I guess he was sated, because I soon discovered a rabbit carelessly lounging just a few dozen feet further up the trail.  But why the calls while dining?  I could hear them from quite a distance.  Was he warning other birds to stay away?  Or was he inviting a juvenile or mate to join him for a meal?

Cooper's hawk.

Cooper's hawk vocalizing.

Cooper's hawk with prey.

Following the pathway to the east side of the park, I soon heard new bird calls - more frantic and high pitched than the hawk's sound.  At least one American kestrel was soaring and fluttering, apparently agitated.  He made these sorties from the dead branches of a cottonwood, chirping while high up.

American kestrel in flight.

Another shot of an American kestrel in flight.

Vocalizing American kestrel. I believe this is a female.

American kestrel taking a break from flight.  I believe this is a male.

I heard another, quieter call from a nearby tree, and upon investigation found a lone, meek kestrel, much calmer than the one or two I saw flying.  He let me photograph him, hopping once or twice to nearby branches, until he flew away.  After reviewing my many photos, I realized that the more staid avian was banded and was a male, and that there were indeed two other unique individuals.

Lone, mild-mannered male American kestrel, with leg band.

Another shot of the solitary male kestrel.

Male kestrel with soulful gaze.

The more active birds seemed to be one female and one male.  Was this banded bird a juvenile and the offspring of the pair?  Were the couple somehow trying to coax him into the open?  Or was he an interloper, threatening a nearby nest?

In the end it's always a happy day when new discoveries, and sometimes mysteries, await my return to a favorite walk in the woods.