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Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Green-Wood Cemetery Red-tailed Hawk update

Big Mama's mate, "Junior"

(Photo credit - Rob J)

This morning, before going to work, I pedaled over to Green-Wood Cemetery to take a look at the single eyass. As I've mentioned in previous posts, Big Mama and her beau, Junior, had taken over the cemetery nest site. This season they only hatched a single chick and he is close to fledging. It seems a bit late but, with all the attention this "only child" has been receiving, maybe he's reluctant to leave home.

"Baby Huey"

(Photo credit - Rob J)

I met Marge at the entrance of the cemetery and we drove to the nest site. Upon arriving I noticed the alarm call of a robin and instinctively looked around for a hawk. I found "Junior" perched nearly directly above us. He was keeping an eye on the nest from a safe distance while doing his best to ignore a pair of irate mockingbirds. "Baby Huey" (Marge and Joe's moniker for the huge Red-tailed Hawk eyass) was standing on the nest and preening for most of the time I was present. About an hour after I arrived he began hop-flapping from one side of the nest to the other. He looks strong and has well developed wings. I suspect that he will be out of the nest within the next day or two.

Baby practicing flying

(Photo credit - Rob J)

Also seen near the nest was yet another raccoon pup. He was resting his chin on the entrance to his den and sniffing the warm, summer air.

Raccoon pup in Green-Wood Cemetery

(Photo credit - Rob J)


Pamela said...


Last year we had Northern saw-whet owls nest in the 100+ year old maples tree next door. They and their two babies were fun to watch chasing moths at dusk. We could hear them Too-too-too-too-too-too long after we went to bed.

Judith Sachs said...

My husband and daughter and I went to my father's gravesite in Mt. Hebron cemetery, Queens, today to visit since it is near the second anniversary of his death. We drove down the block number, but didn't quite remember where the gravesite was. As we slowed, a huge red-winged hawk swooped past the car and into a pine tree a short space away. "That's where the grave is," my daughter remembered. And as we got out of the car and started walking, we saw the family headstone to one side of the tree. The hawk had vanished.

My father, a physician who died at 93, was ever-vigilant and watchful, just like a hawk. I like to think he was trying to tell us something today.

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