Living out a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" is not how I imagined a day on the Verde Valley wine trail: one moment sipping chardonnay, the next ducking for cover as a raptor buzzed me with extended talons. The verdant riparian area that borders Oak Creek as it meanders from Sedona to the Verde River channels water through sunny slopes that are the home of several central Arizona vineyards. But it is also an ideal habitat for wildlife, including migratory birds like the common black hawk that attacked me.
A visit to a winery, then lunch with a river view and one more winery tour are not bad ways to spend a warm Friday after the Fourth of July. The last stop, DA Ranch in Page Springs, sprawls along a scenic estate populated with towering cottonwoods and several weeping willow trees. Its spacious wrap-around porches offer relaxing views of grapevines and mountains. And this birder was especially interested in an animated female vermilion flycatcher that leaped from overhead strands of lights in pursuit of invisible insects.
Thinking the grounds would offer even more colorful avian finds, I walked the paths and fields in pursuit. I quickly identified the vocalizations of a woodpecker - probably a ladder-backed - in a tall cottonwood. Shortly after, I found the candy apple red mate of that vermilion flycatcher. But it was a lone bird closer to Oak Creek, in a clearing between a field of grapevines and a strand of cottonwoods, that would draw most of my attention.
Black as a shadow and with his head close to the ground, he appeared to be a vulture. But as I approached him, he quickly flew away, exhibiting the prominent white stripe on his tail feathers that identified him as a common black hawk. He escaped high into a nearby cottonwood and then deeper into the woods as I inched closer to get better shots. Calls filled the air, directing me to another black hawk in a tree nearer to me.
The sounds were high-pitched, frequent yelps or whistles: calls to each of the raptors that were meaningless to me except as a warning. I saw one of the hawks fly out high over the vineyards and quickly turn 180 degrees back toward the trees and me. Yes, it was coming at me, dive-bombing, claws extended, banking slightly as it got closer. I cowered, covering my face as I crouched close to the ground. But these assaults, like the calls, were only meant to scare me away.
The airborne raptor flew at me two more times, giving me the opportunity to show I was brave enough to win the game of chicken. The prize: shots of a head-on attack and a fly-by. With the battle for this little patch of Earth finished, both the hawks and I directed our focus to the treetop theater where a battle was underway with orioles.
I quickly spotted a vocal male Bullock's oriole and then a female who was fluttering close to a hawk. At the same time, the bird of prey continued its yelps. Meanwhile I focused my zoom lens on the other hawk - the one that didn't attack me - who was higher in a cottonwood tree. It didn't take long for me to see that it was holding what appeared to be a nest in its talons.
I had photographed that initial hawk flying away as I approached him on the ground. A quick examination of the shot showed me that in his sharp grasp was indeed what looked like the grassy nest. So I had entered a true battleground, where an epic struggle for survivor between two quite different migratory birds was underway. And a spoil of that war was the offspring of a pair of Bullock's orioles.
To me it was a David and Goliath story, a smaller bird matched against a much larger and fiercer one. But the orioles, like the young shepherd, have their own skills and strengths, even if not of biblical proportions. You see the weaker pair of birds still have another shot at raising an additional brood this summer.
A visit to a winery, then lunch with a river view and one more winery tour are not bad ways to spend a warm Friday after the Fourth of July. The last stop, DA Ranch in Page Springs, sprawls along a scenic estate populated with towering cottonwoods and several weeping willow trees. Its spacious wrap-around porches offer relaxing views of grapevines and mountains. And this birder was especially interested in an animated female vermilion flycatcher that leaped from overhead strands of lights in pursuit of invisible insects.
Thinking the grounds would offer even more colorful avian finds, I walked the paths and fields in pursuit. I quickly identified the vocalizations of a woodpecker - probably a ladder-backed - in a tall cottonwood. Shortly after, I found the candy apple red mate of that vermilion flycatcher. But it was a lone bird closer to Oak Creek, in a clearing between a field of grapevines and a strand of cottonwoods, that would draw most of my attention.
Black as a shadow and with his head close to the ground, he appeared to be a vulture. But as I approached him, he quickly flew away, exhibiting the prominent white stripe on his tail feathers that identified him as a common black hawk. He escaped high into a nearby cottonwood and then deeper into the woods as I inched closer to get better shots. Calls filled the air, directing me to another black hawk in a tree nearer to me.
The sounds were high-pitched, frequent yelps or whistles: calls to each of the raptors that were meaningless to me except as a warning. I saw one of the hawks fly out high over the vineyards and quickly turn 180 degrees back toward the trees and me. Yes, it was coming at me, dive-bombing, claws extended, banking slightly as it got closer. I cowered, covering my face as I crouched close to the ground. But these assaults, like the calls, were only meant to scare me away.
The airborne raptor flew at me two more times, giving me the opportunity to show I was brave enough to win the game of chicken. The prize: shots of a head-on attack and a fly-by. With the battle for this little patch of Earth finished, both the hawks and I directed our focus to the treetop theater where a battle was underway with orioles.
I quickly spotted a vocal male Bullock's oriole and then a female who was fluttering close to a hawk. At the same time, the bird of prey continued its yelps. Meanwhile I focused my zoom lens on the other hawk - the one that didn't attack me - who was higher in a cottonwood tree. It didn't take long for me to see that it was holding what appeared to be a nest in its talons.
I had photographed that initial hawk flying away as I approached him on the ground. A quick examination of the shot showed me that in his sharp grasp was indeed what looked like the grassy nest. So I had entered a true battleground, where an epic struggle for survivor between two quite different migratory birds was underway. And a spoil of that war was the offspring of a pair of Bullock's orioles.
To me it was a David and Goliath story, a smaller bird matched against a much larger and fiercer one. But the orioles, like the young shepherd, have their own skills and strengths, even if not of biblical proportions. You see the weaker pair of birds still have another shot at raising an additional brood this summer.
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| Common black hawk escaping me with an oriole's nest. |
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| Head-on attack by the black hawk. |
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| Head-on attack by the black hawk. |
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| Black hawk vocalizing. |
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| Black hawk eyeing an upset male Bullock's oriole. |
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| Black hawk fly-by. |
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| Black hawk holding the orioles' nest. I suspect chicks are within. |
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| Common black hawk. |
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| Male Bullock's oriole. |
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| Female Bullock's oriole and common black hawk. Her nest in the sharp grip of a second black hawk, her protestations in vain, she and her mate should have time to start a second brood. |
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