Hawk Attack

For years I have fed songbirds at the feeder. It seems like the right thing to do and it’s fun to watch the antics of the little guys, as they cluster around the feeder holes, vying for access to its cornucopia. I know I’m offering them vital nutrients in these cold months, but I’ve also been concerned about predators attacking them and how I may be setting up the little guys.

A bunch of tasty morsels crowding around the feeder must create a tremendous attraction for hawks. I have suspected that sharp-shinned hawks might be lurking in the vicinity. I’ve read that they are a major predator around feeders, but had never spotted one…until a few days ago.

There have been numerous occasions when I’d notice that all the songbirds near the feeder had instantly transformed themselves from jerky little acrobats who were constantly on the move into feathery statues. It was as if some magic hand had waved and suddenly turned them into taxidermy figures. For several minutes the only move they’d dare make was an occasional blink of an eye. My guess is that a hawk had entered the arena and they knew that their survival lay in stillness. I never was able to spot a hawk, however, and soon the little guys would resume their furious activity.

It can be crucial to the survival of a tiny songbird to ingest a sufficient amount of food energy, especially on cold days. Their tiny bodies rapidly radiate heat, so they must eat an enormous amount to stay alive. The expression to “eat like a bird” is very misleading. They gorge themselves. A tiny chickadee requires some 16 calories a day. Now, that might not sound like much, but scale that bird up to a 150 pound human, and you get the equivalent of over 6,000 calories! Try eating that much every day and still try to fly—let alone waddle across the room!

In order to gobble up that many calories, a little songbird in the wild must be scouting for food nearly every waking hour. It needs to find several hundred bugs a day to survive. On a cold January day, that’s an overwhelming task. If, instead, the bird has access to a feeder that is stocked with black oil sunflower seeds, just a few dozen seeds a day provides all the nutrients it needs. It’s in bird heaven!

So I’m helping the little songbirds survive the harsh winter. But am I also setting them up for a hawk’s meal? Maybe so. As yet I haven’t actually seen a hawk, nor any tell-tale pile of feathers on the ground—signaling the remains of its birdie feast. I also know that many songbirds gathered together provide each other a degree of safety, since many eyes on the lookout can spot a foe quicker than one pair.

A few days ago I was finally witness to a spectacular hawk attack. I happened to be standing still near the feeder, when there was a sudden flurry of activity in the trumpet vine next to the feeder. I looked over to see a sharp-shinned hawk dive repeatedly at two chickadees who were receding as fast as they could into the protection of the vine’s branches. The much larger hawk could not get in to grab them, though he tried several times in the split second I watched the attack. It then spotted me and streaked off to a nearby tree, where it landed on a limb and balefully eyed me, as if resenting my interference.

I inched slowly toward the hawk, hoping to get a better look. What a beautiful bird! It turned its back on me, unceremoniously pooped, and flew off into the forest—leaving me trembling in wonder. Wow! I was torn between a sense of relief that he failed in his attack (my birdies were safe for now) and knowing that this beautiful raptor needed to eat too.

I regretted not having a camera at the ready, but so many of nature’s gifts that I receive pass too quickly for a photo. I may not have captured a picture of this delightful bird, but the vision is surely permanently seared into my memory. I was graced.