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July 2009

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From:
Bill Whan <[log in to unmask]>
Reply To:
Bill Whan <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Fri, 10 Jul 2009 13:12:07 -0400
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        I've been looking at prairie falcon records (Ohio apparently has five, 
if you count the Wilds birds of 2204 and 2005 as the same one). Three of 
these birds were handled, and two of them shot, which led me to think 
about some other raptor records I'd been looking into.
        I recently read Moseley's interesting article "Variations in the bird 
populations of Ohio and nearby states" 
http://kb.osu.edu/dspace/bitstream/1811/3569/1/V46N06_308.pdf
where on page 318 he has this to say: "In Wood County in 1945 James 
Stitt, who for many years has spent most of his time in producing and 
maintaining the large Pheasant population, received the following 
reports of birds of prey, mostly from men in the feeding stations: Hawks 
shot, 671; trapped, 33; Owls shot, 19; trapped, 41. The whole number 
killed in 1945 within thirty miles of Bowling Green probably exceeded 
three thousand, including those killed by poultry raisers."
        This all took place decades after US law and international treaties 
protected raptors, and during a period when enforcement was, to put it 
kindly, less than a high priority. In fact, wildlife managers of the day 
were complicit in such activities. Milton Trautman (p. 220) has this to 
say in his treatment of the peregrine falcon in his 1940 classic "The 
Birds of Buckeye Lake": “During the last six years of this investigation 
[1929-34] State and public organizations and individuals expended 
considerable effort to kill this species whenever possible.” Its common 
name was "Duck Hawk," after all.
         Elsewhere in the same work Trautman, himself an eager duck hunter, 
said that hunters often promised to shoot all raptors seen as a 
condition of hunting a farmer's land, with one exception: the kestrel, 
of which he writes (p. 223): "This falcon has been fortunate in that 
relatively few hunters believe it their duty to kill it whenever 
possible."
        This is not all ancient history, from an era when it was still easy to 
ignore the law and kill raptors at will. It is still with us. I invite 
readers to have a look at http://nuthatch.typepad.com/ where there are 
some links about efforts to crack down on those who kill raptors because 
they resent their depredations on pet pigeon populations, and others. 
There are some ways offered to strengthen enforcement and ensure 
punishment for those who kill raptors.
        For most bird lovers, this will be familiar, but for others I offer 
Robinson Jeffers's poem "Hurt Hawks":

                                I

The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without
        talons.
He stands under the oak-bush and waits
The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.
He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,
The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.
You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.

                                II

I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk; but the 
great           redtail
Had nothing left but unable misery
 From the bone too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under 
his     talons when he moved.
We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking
        for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
Implacable arrogance. I gave him the lead gift in the twilight.
        What fell was relaxed,
Owl-downy, soft feminine feathers; but what
Soared: the fierce rush: the night-herons by the flooded river cried
        fear at its rising.
Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.

Bill Whan
Columbus



           	

	

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