There were 15 mourning doves huddling around my bird feeder.
Whoops! Make that 14.
In the blink of an eye, the birds exploded into the air and disappeared. Their instant panic could only mean one thing. They were under attack.
I ran to the window just in time to spot the expected culprit — a Cooper’s hawk.
Hold on. This hawk was bigger and grayer than a Cooper’s hawk. I was astonished to be looking at an American goshawk.
I’ve lived in this house for a quarter century now, and this is the first goshawk to raid my yard. He’s probably still hanging around somewhere, given that he was out near the mailbox a day later, perhaps keeping an eye on the neighbor’s feeders.
Whenever we attract birds, we run the risk of attracting other birds that eat them.
Accipiters are a family of hawks that primarily hunt small woodland birds. They have relatively short wings, enabling them to accelerate quickly. They have long tails that act like rudders, allowing them to maneuver swiftly through forests. They hunt by ambush, flashing in suddenly to snatch an unwary victim.
There are three accipiter species in North America. Maine has all three. Sharp-shinned hawks are the smallest. Cooper’s hawks are medium-sized. American goshawks are brutes, roughly the size of a red-tailed hawk.
Your favorite guidebook likely calls them northern goshawks. Until recently, goshawks in America and Europe were considered the same species. They were split in 2023 and renamed the American goshawk and Eurasian goshawk.
Ornithologists justified the split based on slight differences in genetics, plumages and vocalizations.
The two species differ in one other way. Eurasian goshawks are somewhat comfortable around people and neighborhoods. American goshawks decidedly aren’t. They nest deep in the forest, and viciously drive off anyone who approaches. Even though they breed in Maine, it’s rare to see them in populated areas.
Cooper’s hawks are the typical winter raptors that haunt bird feeders in Maine. Not a month goes by without at least one reader asking me to identify the hawk perched on their deck. Sharp-shinned hawks do it, too, but most leave our state in winter.
The goshawk’s name derives from the Old English word for goose hawk. They’re brawny enough to prey on barnyard birds. A century ago, chicken farmers routinely shot them. Some states paid a bounty on them.
It’s quite possible my goshawk is equally interested in dining on squirrels. I’ve got a bumper crop in my yard this winter. Goshawks can subdue a full-grown snowshoe hare, so a gray squirrel is easy pickings for them.
With all the doves and squirrels hanging around my feeder, I can see why a goshawk might overcome its natural reluctance to be anywhere near people.
Preying on chickadees is hardly worth the effort for a goshawk, but doves make a decent-sized meal.
The doves know this and compensate by being hypervigilant. They seem to be the only birds in my yard that are aware of me indoors. When I walk by a window, I see them look up. If I approach the glass, they flinch and begin to inch away. When I step outdoors, they explode into flight, treating me with the same deference they show the goshawk.
Anyone who feeds birds can relate to this backyard drama. It’s inevitable that while we watch our birds, other critters are watching them, too. Most just watch for seeds to be dropped.
Baffles defend my feeder, but squirrels are welcome to any seeds that reach the ground.
In fact, I expect that many other rodents visit at night. I find odd footprints around the feeder in freshly fallen snow. Barred owls have figured this out, and I hear them in my yard periodically. If they are hungry enough, they will stake out my feeder in broad daylight.
I’m aware I’m feeding more than just the birds.
One odd set of footprints caught my eye this morning. I didn’t have to wait long before a snow-white ermine — a short-tailed weasel — retraced its steps through my yard. I’ve seen them here before, and I’m certain I’ll see them again.
I’m surrounded by rodents this winter, and that short-tailed weasel must consume two-thirds of its own body weight every day just to survive. They can take prey as big as a cottontail rabbit, so a red squirrel should offer little challenge.
I once thought I was merely feeding birds. Now I think I’m running a zoo.
