Silent danger: Cooper’s hawk stalks both forest and feeder

Springtime finds me detouring from the regular route on my bicycle rides home from work. Just a few extra miles nets me a slow, quiet loop or two around the paved trail at Barnes Preserve, the first and only Wayne County park, just a few miles southeast of Wooster.

The paved trail, constructed for full ADA accessibility, seconds as a perfectly silent substrate under my slowly rolling wheels. There, I watch the forest unfold after a long and lingering winter. It’s amazing what one can silently roll up upon at a crawl, only fast enough to keep from falling over.

Stealth is key in this pursuit, and I revel in the challenge of creeping up on a small pond where a deck overlooks a chorus of spring peepers, wood frogs and all manner of similarly singing creatures. One false move and heads dip below the surface and the world goes still.

On one recent outing, I had accomplished this goal and was standing along the rail, taking in the full cacophony when, in an instant, the world fell completely still. Before I had another second to ponder the culprit, a Cooper’s hawk shot through the scene at shoulder height to spiral through a maze of low branches near the pond’s edge and disappear into the shadows. Within seconds of its passing, the chorus resumed — minus the chirp and chitter of whatever small, feathered victim the aerial acrobat had snatched.

If you’ve been lucky enough to watch a Cooper’s hawk flush the birds from your bird feeder, an act for which they are largely infamous, you’ll know this ambush is typically only the first stage of attack. The agile missile often tracks right after its prey into a hedge, bush or shrub, sometimes with such speed, ferocity and focus it brings about its own demise through collision with obstacles along the way.

Research has revealed more than a quarter of adult Cooper’s hawks have experienced impacts severe enough to leave fracture shadows on an X-ray. That’s a pretty high rate of injury. (If the bird were working in industry, they would label his job as the most dangerous in America.)

If the attacker’s track holds true, the Cooper’s hawk may hook its target while still on the wing. In the case of a miss, however, the nimble predator will dodge right into the brush, jumping from branch to branch to snatch its meal. I’ve watched that strategy play out a number of times on the phalanx of house sparrows that occupies my own backyard feeder. Once the prey is seized, the hawk’s sharp talons typically do the full job.

You’ll often see the birds stand atop a fresh victim, lancing it repeatedly while looking about with “there’s nothing to see here” nonchalance.

Spotting that same hawk just a few days later carrying a twig in its beak, I was lucky enough to keep sight of it all the way to its nest-building project. It won’t be but a few days until the site is entirely obscured from view by emerging leaves, but I’ll remember to listen there after a month or so, as the hatchlings call for their next meal from their busy parents.

If you have comments on this column or questions about the natural world, write The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com. You also can follow along on Instagram @railtrailnaturalist.