BALD EAGLES of the Columbia Basin - Season II

Once the eaglets left the nest their parents had no reason to stay either.
They would spend their nights roosting in the canopy of old trees.

Once the eaglets from Season I ventured on their own their parents also separated and the nest was left empty.

We had no idea how many of the three survived their first flight - the statistics give them just a tiny bit more than a 50:50 chance.
To those who survived we could only  wish luck and a successful first-winter survival; the toughest time in the eagle's life.






Winter in the interior of BC can be hard for the birds.

It is not exactly the bitter, blizzard-crowned-Prairie-cold that hits the southeastern parts of British Columbia each year. Tucked in the mountains and protected by the Rockies we usually experience a couple of months of heavy snowfalls that cover the country with a thick, white blanket of frozen powder. Skiers love this fairy tale weather, but the birds must be thinking otherwise.
Some, of course seek warmer climates, others tough-it-out resorting to a change of diets and behaviours.


The  fish-eating eagles of Southern Kootenay and Columbia Rivers, Bald Eagles, are no exception. Some of the young ones may take off and seek a new home  but as long as the waterways stay free of ice, the breeding pairs usually hang about  feeding on odd fish, hunting waterfowl and resorting to road, or other kill.
Each eagle on its own.

Lead from hunters' ammunition can seriously harm a scavenging eagle.
Lead poisoning is one of the leading causes of eagles' death.

It is not until after our, human, New Year that they start to pair up again.

We are lucky to have a tall poplar tree not far from where we live. It towers above Kootenay River and the eagles like to use it year round. Often we see one of them  perched on a branch but, for brief periods in February and March, we can spot both of them at the same time. That's when they renew their life-long relationship with spectacular flight displays. (Those unfortunately, eluded my camera so far.)

Our couple from Season I also got back together this year. We saw them several times together and when at the end of February they seemed to disappear we understood that
The Bald Eagle Season II was on its way.

In March the eagles returned to their old nest.

So did we, the naturalists, onlookers, well-wishers and photographers, the entire population of local people wishing "our" eagles a happy and prosperous new season. We were careful not to get too close resorting to all kinds of distance-conquering devices instead.

The nest was far enough and hidden enough for people not to disturb the nesting eagle pair.

       

The eagles wasted no time, the old nest had to be improved, refurbished ; they collected sticks and branches of respectable sizes, twigs, grasses and moss, building a skookum addition; large, safe and comfortable.
By the end of March they had their eggs laid in a deep depression a bit off centre of perimeter of the nest. It was a penthouse with a beautiful view indeed.

Columbia River 

They took turns incubating the eggs, taking turns in shifts that lasted several hours each. The larger female was much more stationary, she would simply settle down and not not move for ages. He, on the other hand, was a true multitasker - couldn't and wouldn't sit still.

Female Bald Eagle is larger than a male

When not on the nest they would hunt for food, collect additional material or, perched on a nearby pine, stood guard over their home; ready to attack anyone and anything that ventured too close to the nest.

Eagles and crows, ravens or large owls will take each other's chicks
whenever possible, a good recipe for an unhealthy relationship.

We, the humans frequenting the trail way above their tree, were too far and too predictable to make them worried.
They seemed to understand that there was a hiker's trail up there and that the people and dogs on it would leave them alone.

But add a crow or a raven invading their airspace and their attitude would change!





On a beautiful Spring day I decided to explore their territory from below. There was no trail, only a rough river shore from which a steep slope shot up straight towards the sky. Somewhere on it was the poplar hosting bald eagles' nest.

Columbia River by Castlegar, BC 

Columbia Lily, Lilium columbianum, is often called a Tiger Lily or Oregon Lily,

While incubating the eggs, the eagles spend most of the
time guarding the clutch. Squirrels or crows would be happy to
take an advantage of an unguarded nest.

Although quite large, the nest itself was VERY difficult to find. Such a huge undertaking and I was not really able to find it from below.

According to a local naturalist, it was three seasons ago when the eagles started to build this nest after the previous one fell off the tree and tumbled into the river.
Finally! A clearing in the canopy and there it was - a three-tiered structure - the layers that the eagles added each year were quite clearly defined.
It made me wonder: how do the eagles chose a tree to build a nest on?
It has to be branched - at least three strong branches should provide a base but do they have other criteria to go by?

This was the only opening that offered me a clean shot - everything else was obscured by branches. I was way-way below the tree base, some thirty meters or so.
The nesting eagle did not seem to mind my presence but as I was packing up, the other bird, the guardian, left its pine tree perch and made a threatening swoop in my direction.

The message was clear. The hiking trail above was OK to be on.
The river bank and the slope reaching up to it - a definite NO!
Point taken, I packed up and left them alone.

Their first chick was born towards the end of April and soon after another one followed. 

We, the trail creatures, were allowed to watch with amazement how tenderly the eagles  fed the chicks, how carefully they walked about their nest - their talons tucked into a "fist" in order not to accidentally hurt the baby.

The eaglets grew at an amazing speed and soon they were able to hobble about the nest. To our human eyes they looked anything but majestic - more like the ugly ducklings of the famous fairytale. We loved them regardless.

By mid-May, at about three weeks old, they were still quite disproportionate. Their parents still fed them meat (mostly fish but also a marmot as seen in the photo). They would tear off a piece, work it over and GENTLY offered it to the eaglets. They fed one eaglet at a time. 

The male had great patience and skill and we started to call him Super-Dad.

The eaglets are still covered in their down which keeps them warm. Their real flight feathers are starting to "sprout".

"Change of the Guard" - the female (large with a larger beak) just arrived to the nest and the eagles are exchanging some kind of information. Their voices are surprisingly "high and weak",  they lack vocal chords and the sound is made deep inside their throats. It seemed to us that they had a certain vocabulary to keep each other well informed.

It was a cold spring during the Season II. 

End of May brought heavy rains and water in Columbia River (and elsewhere) started to rise. 

A friend visiting the area on June 5th reported that "the eagles seemed unsettled". 

The day after, on the 6th of June, another friend came back with: "I could not find the nest!"

The entire human community was alarmed. Surely enough - closer inspection confirmed the worst: the tree came crashing down, taking the nest and the young eaglets with it. 

Base of the the poplar tree was rotten and the midnight wind needed just a bit of strength to topple it.
The birds must have felt its unsteadiness the day before - that's why they were so nervous

The nest hit the trees below and was smashed to bits. We found the dead chicks  some twenty meters below this site.
Their flight feathers just started to show.

The eagle parents stayed around for awhile as if they too needed to come to terms with their loss.

Soon after they separated to spend the summer on their own leaving us to wonder:.

Will they ever build another nest here, on Columbia River again? 

Only Time will tell

BALD EAGLES of Columbia Basin - Season I

Columbia River meanders towards the border between Canada and  the USA.

I owe this entry to my photographer friend Nel Vandergaag, for it was she, who introduced me to an amazing North American couple:
a breeding pair of  Bald Eagles, Haliaeetus leucocephalus.

That first meeting happened  two seasons ago on the steep banks of Columbia River.

Nel and our friend Flat Lucas (an elementary school project), looking at the eagle's nest down below.

The eagles mate for life and though they go their own way in the latter part of a year, they renew their bond the following Spring to carry on and raise their offspring.
Some seasons are successful some not. This, the season when we met, was a happy one.

Our first visit happened at the end of May and the eagles were already busy feeding their rapidly growing offspring. Thanks to their choice of venue and thanks to the far-reaching technology we were able to visit without disturbing the them, record a bit and learn a lot. June was their busiest time, with the eaglets  practicing their skills. Just like people, they were different in their behaviors and overall effort. One exercised non-stop, one liked to eat more than the others and practice less and the third one preferred to sleep and sleep and sleep.

We could not resist naming them: they became Flapper and Chomper and Sleeper. Not that they cared a bit.

It takes about three months for the eaglets to learn to fly and leave the nest.

Bald eagles raise sometimes one, usually two, sometimes three and rarely four offspring.
Three is a handful and it was a busy time for the parents to feed their trio Where and how did they find or catch the huge fish in this fast flowing river, we wondered. Or did they? Perhaps they robbed an osprey in mid-air or maybe they spotted a wounded or dying fish in the shallows - bald eagles will notice a glitter of a fish two kilometers away.
On some visits we noticed a yellow marmot or another larger rodent on the menu.
I also remembered seeing  the pair successfully ambush and catch a feeding duck. It was a long process because each time the eagles got close, their prey would dive under water. The hunt took the birds long way from the shore, and finally, exhausted and confused, the duck made a mistake of submerging a split second later than it should. One  eagle descended upon the duck, and, within seconds, squeezed the life out of it. Then something strange happened; the eagle either could not free itself or it was unable lift its prey from the water; in any case the eagle had to swim the entire half of the river back to the shore (a good hundred meters). Its  wings were flapping like oars and the air in the plumage helped the bird to stay afloat.
It was the eagle's lucky day  to make it to the safety of terra firma.

What, we wondered, would happen to the eaglets if one of the hard working pair died? 

We had no answer for that.

In June the eaglets became more and more mobile making use of the branches that also supported the nest.

Their housecleaning was exemplary, and judging by the lush vegetation below, environmentally super friendly.

That first year, we did not pay frequent visits to the nest and when we returned from a July trip to somewhere else, the nest was empty. All of them, Flapper and Chomper and even Sleeper, whom we so worried about, were gone. We could only hope that all the eaglets went on to survive. Such probability is very low, it is believed that only 1 in 10  will reach the adulthood, most dying in their first year.
 Starvation, disease and weather will take their toll; along with human activities and interference. It takes 4 - 5 years for a Bald Eagle to mature.

Columbia Lily, Lilium columbianum - also called Tiger Lily (this name is used for other lily species as well) 

Later on that year I was kayaking Kootenay River and heard a pitiful peep-peeep-peeep coming from somewhere above. I looked and looked and followed the sound and looked again. There he was! Or maybe it was a she. Calling Mom or Dad who were (purposefully) on the other side of the bay watching a bunch of young Canada Geese.. 

Bald Eagles mature at 4-5 years of age.
It would take couple more years for the young
to sport the white on its head and tail and yellow on its beak. 

Seemingly abandoned and for sure hungry, the young eagle was calling for help. I could see the white head of an adult far away on the other side of the bay. 

Intentionally ignored by the parents (at least for the time being) the young was being subjected to their "tough love". Go and hunt for yourself - we shall be only a backup from now on.

Come on, I told him. Such a big guy and you are talking like a chicken. Peep-peep-peep ... not much stronger than that.
How unfair of me!
It was a baby, only about four months old, size of an adult but a helpless young bird nevertheless.

The eagles have "weak" voice - at least to our human ears it sounds weak. But what if we simply cannot hear the sounds they communicate with. Who is the weak one then?

At the end of August I had another lucky glimpse into the Bald Eagle's life. We were camping in Burton, BC by Arrow Lake where the kokanee salmon were getting ready to spawn. The avian world was there too - ready to join the party.

Ballet school of California Gull, Larus californicus  (practicing Swan Lake production)
To see their ultimate goal please click the "Swan Lake" link above and then just play the Youtube video.

I was sneaking up to a flock of gulls when I noticed two Bald Eagles, one adult, one immature, hiding in the treetops. It seemed to me that they knew each other well and that there there was some kind of
communication happening between the two. I turned my attention to the gulls only to see them take off - in sheer panic and disarray.

I glanced back to the eagles hardly having time to notice that, like lightning, two shadows left the treetops. Eagles were hunting together - the old bird teaching the young!

They separated a gull from its flock and the adult eagle followed. 

The young one then abandoned the hunt and returned to its high perch while the adult kept on the pursuit.

I admired both of them for their speed was amazing.
Split of a second calculations and timings meant death or life.  How long could they go on for?
Almost upsetting the kayak I tried to follow their path.

I could see the gull losing strength but, somehow on its adrenaline rush, it managed to find the energy for a desperate maneuver - it flew straight up and immediately down again. The eagle missed and decided to abandon its hunt.
The gull, a hero from now on, dashed to the safety of the flock to share its story.

Bald Eagle settled back on its treetop branch, seagull feather still tucked in its talon. 

I could imagine it whistling in the soft eagle whisper: "OK, son, that was the wrong way to do it."

It was easy to believe that the adult eagle was teaching the young some special hunting technique.

Thimbleberry, Rubus parviflorus 

The first season ended. Once the eaglets leave the nest, the adults have no reason to stay. They roost elsewhere for the night and by Fall they separate for the season. It will be end of February, here in the Columbia Basin, before they start re-establishing their bond. Bald Eagles mate for life; and theirs is an impressive lifespan of  plus or minus 30 years.
Their nest will be re-used and built onto a year after year, after another year ... until it reaches gigantic proportions, or until the tree collapses underneath the nest's mega-weight.

Eagle's nest on Ponderosa Pine, Pinus ponderosa on Old Hedley Road near Princeton, BC.
By the following Spring the tree broke in half.

SHARP-SHINNED HAWK

Winter is over and many birds are on the move.
Common Redpolls, Carduelis flammea already took off - they will be tweeting their summer away somewhere in the Arctic tundra.










With many insects coming out from their winter hiding spots, the chickadees  moved to more wooded areas.

Black-capped Chickadee,
Poecilla atricapilla










While the Black-capped will come and go, the Mountain Chickadees, Poecilla gambeli  will stay in higher areas.

Gone for the summer!


Steller's Jays and Northern Flickers are gone as well, all looking for nesting sites.



American Goldfinches, Carduelis tristis have disappeared for now. They are hiding in the bush, while the male's plumage changes from its ordinary winter colours to twenty-four-karat gold.

Soon the male goldfinches will look like this:

Their golden plumage will help to convey the usual message of great condition and the best of the best. Ah, the Quest!

But, beautifully visible could bear its price.

New songbird species are arriving every week - and all are busy courting and establishing their nesting sites.

  

American Robin, Turdus migratorius and Tree Swallow, Tachycineta bicolor;  the much-welcome messengers of spring in southern British Columbia.

Someone else arrived, someone extremely agile, someone equipped with powerful rounded wings and a long tail that serves as a rudder giving an ability to manoeuvre amongst the densest branches of the forest. One of the Accipiters, the small but powerful birds of prey, has returned to our community.

It is a "she" Sharp-shinned Hawk, Accipiter striatus, I had been told  (thank you raptor expert Michael McMann for helping me to identify this bird). Compared to other hawks she is quite small - only about 30 - 35 cm long but still a bit larger than her mate (as it is a usual trait for the birds of prey).

Her squarish tail is barred, her reddish eyes sharp and her plumage is elegant.

It could be a mouse that she is watching although more often it is a songbird ends up in her long talons. 

Late afternoon seems to be her hunting time and it looks like she prefers.patience and a sudden attack to an air chase though a year ago I have watched her pursue a small bird in flight.




What an aerial battle it was! The little bird was quite fast and capable of quick and desperate turns. She, so much larger but equipped with wings and tail that account for her amazing movement ability, followed every curve of the little bird's path, always missing by a hair. Finally, she figured out that she would have to look for someone less fit and abandoned the chase.

Last year she stayed around our small community and probably built a nest nearby.

She would appear on alternate days usually just before dusk, often hiding in the bushes, well camouflaged and motionless, for in Nature it is mainly the movement that gives everything away. When an opportunity came several quick wing beats would propel her forward and then a low, quiet glide would follow before descending onto her unwary prey.

She would hunt relentlessly during the nesting time.
Last spring a pair of Mountain Bluebirds, Sialia currucoides took up a residence in a nesting box by the river and the entire human neighbourhood was excited about the event. The box is on a flat with almost no trees around so the bluebirds would be able to detect a predator. Still, after sometime we noticed the absence of the blue-sapphire birds ....

It was our neighbor Mike, who told us later what happened to the nesting bluebirds. The hawk, having nowhere to hide, would perch on the top of the nesting box, waiting for the bluebird female to fly out and ... wham .... not a chance for the bird!

Last time I saw her she was on another lookout for a meal.

Totally focused, she ignored me completely, allowing me to sneak closer and closer. She watched something on the ground - not wanting to scare her away I did not dare to turn around to check it out. But my fingers were loosening the knobs on the tripod, cranking the ISO and lowering the F stop ... all of that in the anticipation of her next move.

Just when she lifted her powerful talon I heard some cheerful voices coming  from behind!

To my disbelief two men, their arms flailing in all directions, came around the corner, loudly and happily discussing some kind of a construction project!

No-one, ever, walks about here at dusk. Ever!

I swung my head in their direction making the ugliest "Go Away!" face I could muster. I waved my hand from my hip. Shooosh!

You cannot scare two guys discussing a construction of ... something. They did not even notice that I was there. Five foot ten and the whole twenty meters away? Com'on!
And a bird?
What bird?

The hawk too lost its focus, looked their way, thought exactly the same thoughts as I did, and  .... shooosh .... , disappeared into the sunset.

Murphy's Law.

I have not seen two people in this area since. 

But then, I have not seen another Sharp-shinned Hawk either - that's because we removed the bird feeder and the beautiful hawk seems to have moved on.