By Julia Lillian

What a fascinating and illuminating month it has been! Circumstances and a much needed retreat from the erratic April weather brought me to southern Louisiana and a whole new world of birds. Here, I was introduced to the roseate spoonbills at Lake St. Martin. What an awesome sight as these large pink birds, reminiscent of tropical pink flamingos, perched high up in the moss-covered trees.

Sitting beside them were little blue herons, black-crowned night herons, white ibis and other exotic-looking birds that never make it up to our neck of the woods. Of course there were scads of great blue herons and great egrets that frequently visit our homeland but I was thrilled to become acquainted with another member of the egret family; the cattle egret. Some locals refer to the cattle egret as a “cowbird,” though he is nothing like the small brown birds that share our summers. These 1’-2’ high white birds with buff highlights owe their name to the fact that they are often seen in the company of cows. They even go so far as to ride on the backs of cows to eat fleas and other bothersome insects.

The “pelican state” is indeed a bird lover’s paradise. Each morning I was awakened to what I thought was a mourning dove speaking with a “southern accent,” until I realized it was another member of the dove family, the Eurasian dove. Any bouts of homesickness I felt quickly dissipated with the familiar song of the cardinal and the comforting flash of blue as my good friends , the jays, would pass by to greet me with their raucous call.

While on my sojourn I was treated to a personal boat tour of the Atchafalaya Basin. Deep in the swamp the bird world was relatively quiet that day. Though it was a thrill to see gators, turtles and massive swamp spiders I was secretly hoping to make a new avian friend.

Finally, deep in the woods stood a stately avian form. As we approached the bird I realized it was a young red-tailed hawk. There was nothing new about that. The red-tailed hawk is a frequent visitor to the fields and marsh of home. Many a day I’ve sat communing with my avian friends when those helpful jays would sound the alarm. I can almost hear them yell “Hawk! Hit the deck!” as birds scatter and all is still.

What was new that day was the way I felt when gazing up at that hawk. I must admit the sight of any raptor has always made me shudder. But as I watched that young hawk stare directly into my eyes I realized the unthinkable. Could it be that through all my ranting in defense of the maligned and misjudged avians of the world, that I myself am harboring an unfair and unjust prejudice toward an entire group of birds? I must confess I have secretly held a distaste for what I will loosely call “hawks”… the birds of prey… the raptors.

But as I connected with that individual young bird that day I felt my eyes begin to open, my distaste weaken and my heart begin to soften and become like putty in his talons. Could I possibly ever fall in love with a hawk? I didn’t know, but believed I must at least do what I so adamantly preach to others – watch, listen, learn and tune into my heart. From that moment on I set out to learn all I could about these creatures who were causing me so much inner turmoil.

The red-tail is a member of the hawk genus Buteo, a group with large broad wings and relatively short wide tails. There are many color variants of the red-tail throughout his range (which is just about everywhere). Most adults share the characteristic reddish tail, darker brown back and brown belly line. They are relatively large, measuring up to 25”and weighing an average of 2 pounds. Their 3 ½- to 5-foot wingspan serves them well as they soar magnificently and can reach speeds of 120 mph when diving.

The red-tail is the quintessential hawk. He is seen in almost every habitat and his voice is the one we most associate with all hawks. Even in movies his voice is the one directors use whenever any raptor, including an eagle, appears. Red-tailed hawks have phenomenal eyesight and are said to be able to see a mouse from a mile away.

Their “hawk eyes” aren’t the only feature that serves them well when hunting. They are extremely bright birds. On one test measuring avian IQ specifically based on innovation of feeding habits, hawks scored at the top of the list. They are very loyal and family oriented, as many bird species are. They usually mate for life and form an intense bond. One of a pair has often been seen feeding an injured mate and a couple will often hunt together as a team.

Even siblings seem to share a close bond. Siblings have been observed helping a more timid brother or sister learn to fly or obtain food. They definitely have a romantic side as their aerial courtship displays are phenomenal. The male will do swoop dives and will often grab the female’s talons as both spiral toward the earth. The more I learned, the more I discovered that these birds were not that unlike the other avians I love so dearly.

What about these hawks raiding feeders and grabbing little songbirds with their sharp talons and formidable beaks? Don’t they terrorize our other bird friends and worry the farmer over the safety of his chickens? After all, the red-tail and his family are colloquially referred to as “chicken hawks.” This turns out to be a bit of misinformation I, too, have bought into. It turns out these hawks rarely eat chickens or other birds. In fact as much as 90% of their diet is composed of rodents. A Cooper’s hawk or sharp-shinned hawk is way more likely to raid unsuspecting birds at feeders (I’ll work on loving them another day).

On the road home I noticed more red-tails than normal. Could it be I never paid attention before? Or might they have felt my newfound good will and took a moment to send me theirs?
According to Native American legend, if a red-tailed hawk lands near you he is sending you a message from the Great Spirit. I believe I was given a message that day, a message to recognize the hawk and all creatures as unique, intelligent, emotional individuals who deserve if not our love, at least our utmost respect.

By Julia Lillian

April 2010: This land is your land... this land is their land

It was a typically cool and damp April day, the kind of day when spring seemed to be struggling to snuff out the last remnants of a season that had long since worn out its welcome. I recall it seemed eerily quiet, as back in those days I never noticed the sound of the robin or red-winged blackbird.

It was on this seemingly ordinary day that I had an experience with a pair of Canada geese that would indelibly change the way I saw the world and the other creatures in it. As a city dweller, new to rural lake living, I had little experience with wildlife of any kind. I loved animals and had my dogs, who were with me that fateful day, but gave no real thought to the lives of other beings who carried out their day to day activities outside the scope of my limited sense of reality.

I had this overwhelming feeling that they were there to communicate, in a sense, that everything would be alright. From that day on I’ve felt a connection with these awesome creatures, though that connection did not yet extend to the rest of the avian world. Paintings of geese adorned my walls, statues graced my shelves and skeins of geese crossing the sky were now noticed and all activity stopped as I’d run to look in awe at their splendor in the sky. More innocent then, and more content in being so, I suffered from the delusion that others of my species shared my love and admiration for these special birds.

I knew very little about geese then. I only knew the way they made me feel .Of course I knew there were those who hunted these birds and although I couldn’t understand it I knew I had to accept it. It is those who harbor an intense irrational disdain for these birds that I simply cannot understand or accept. It is articles like the one recently published in a “bird lover’s” magazine, referring to these birds as “flying rats” and giving “great ideas” for getting rid of them, that leave me dumbfounded. Where do these prejudices against these beautiful sentient beings come from? After all, they are elegant stately avians.

We are all familiar with their grand stance, light brown-gray bodies and black heads and necks with white chin and cheek patches. Even a city slicker like me recognized them instantly without having to resort to an Audubon guide. They are extremely loyal and social birds who often mate for life. They have been shown to have a kind and altruistic nature, never leaving an injured flock mate, often staying by a dying mate’s side while gunfire threatens their very lives.

These glorious birds have 6 foot wingspans, can fly 70 mph and cruise at altitudes up to 9,000 ft. They follow stars and landscape clues over thousands of miles, all the while flying in that famous V shape, taking turns as leader, to lower the air resistance for the rest of the group.

They are not perfect. They are like us in many respects. Each goose is individual in his nature and personality. Some widowed birds remarry, others never do; some find it difficult to be faithful, others are loyal even unto death. It has been shown they are capable of great joy and profound grief just as we are. In my mind we should be able to at least relate to them, if not love and admire them. Yet I am constantly surprised and disappointed by the ignorance and prejudice of my own species.

Just the other day I met a woman who just had to share with me how horrible Canada geese are. Although this obviously didn’t sit well with me she insisted on telling me how she and her neighbors hate them because they make a mess on her beautifully landscaped land and they do whatever they can to eradicate them. I shouldn’t have spoken but couldn’t help myself and replied “it’s their land too,” to which she matter of factly responded “ no, it’s not.” I was actually speechless. What could I say?

She is not alone in her anthropocentric view of the earth. We believe we have dominion. It is our land, our water, our sky. We decide which species are “worthy” of living and which are not; when there are too many of a certain species or when there are too few. When there are too many we “harvest” them (a word that always ruffles my feathers when applied to conscious beings, not plants). When there are too few we do all we can to increase their numbers, only to complain later that there are too many.

So it is with the Canada goose today. Some humans, with their profound superiority complex, have decided there are too many of a certain subspecies of resident Canada geese so we must “take action.” It is a sad world indeed when people worry more about their lawns, parks and golf courses than another being’s right to live.

Of course we hear the argument about geese being a “health hazard.” Hear politicians, backed by special interests, make sure misinformation is propagated while countless studies which show goose droppings pose no health risk. It is this fear indoctrination that has lead peace-loving citizens to agree to the mass slaughter of geese in their communities. Geese that are unable to fly during molting are rounded up and gassed.

Another myth, used to placate the masses, is that these geese will go to feed the hungry. In reality, many shelters refuse to take the geese due to fear of contamination and these once glorious birds most often end up in a trash heap. These round ups continue despite the fact it has been proven that this type of “speciescide” does not work! Other geese will simply re-establish a population in an area if they find it attractive to their lifestyle.

For those who insist they are bothered by geese on “their” land there are other peaceful methods of encouraging geese to go elsewhere. One of the most effective and conscientious ways of discouraging geese is landscape restructuring, or altering your yard to make it attractive to you but not to geese.

Many humane organizations advocate getting a border collie. I don’t believe a border collie is absolutely necessary as we have two small, mixed breed shelter dogs and the geese do not care for them at all! With the exception of the two geese who came to inspire me years ago, I’ve unfortunately never met another goose who’d come anywhere near my dogs.

All I ask is that you take a moment and reflect on these glorious birds. Watch them as they raise their young or grieve the loss of a mate. Sit quietly and commune with them as I did so many years ago. Perhaps then you will shake off the view that it is our inalienable right to “own” the land and you will learn to share the land, as the sparrows, starlings and geese have learned to share the skies with us.