Abstract
On a rocky mountain crest located between the northern forests of western North America and the distant southern deserts, a small group of dedicated people await an autumn miracle.
At the end of August, a sprinkling of hawks appear out of the north. By mid-September hawks, falcons, and eagles soar in great numbers, headed for points south. Most of them will fly deep into Mexico to spend the winter.
Along the way, the Goshute volunteers gather to learn from them,
For centuries, birds have been considered the bearers of prophetic news, good and bad. Our modern society scoffs at such superstition, yet birds indeed are forecasters. Through birds we can discover environmental trends by assessing their numbers in the wild.
The Goshute Mountains tower over the surrounding sagebrush basins, overlooking the Great Salt Lake Desert. Situated in east central Nevada, these high, conifer-capped ridges attract the migrants and direct them southward. The formidable expanse of the encompassing salt flats and deserts create an effective barrier to these travelers, many of which are primarily forest dwellers.
This concentration of raptors, or birds of prey, has only been recently documented. Raptor biologist Steve Hoffman discovered this migration corridor in 1979. It has since proven to be a major flyway, perhaps the largest between the Pacific Coast and the Mississippi River.
This factor makes the Goshute Research Project of primary importance to conservationists. I spent two weeks in September 1987, finding out why counting as well as capturing, banding, and releasing these wild raptors is playing such a critical role in conservation.
The station is remote. At the end of a winding jeep road, a steep foot trail ascends 1,600 feet in less than two miles. The dry ridge is sparsely covered with bristlecone and limber pine. Everything must be carried in. Fortunately, food and water are airlifted to the summit through the generosity of the Bureau of Land Management, Elko District. From the highest point on the ridge, the observer enjoys a breathtaking 360 degree view. It is the panorama of a fragile world.
The camp on the summit bustles with activity in the early morning. Along with breakfast and a lunch box, each volunteer receives his daily task - trapping blind, processing tent, or observer's scribe. Before the morning flight of raptors begins, people disperse to their assigned places and the camp becomes deserted until evening.
Professional observers man the highest point, sweeping the airy expanse with binoculars to spot, identify and count the passing migrants. Alternately scorched by the sun and buffeted by winds, the count must be taken while the daylight lasts. Down in the trapping blinds, volunteers crouch, peering through a slit into the bright sky, alert to lure a passing raptor into the nets. Hot and stuffy on sunny days or cold and drafty on bitter days, the interior of the blind affords concealment with few comforts.
The Goshute volunteers, however, did not congregate in this distant wilderness to enjoy a life of leisure. The discomforts are mitigated by the importance, the fun, and the camaraderie that the project characterizes.
The purpose of the study is to determine the status of western raptor populations and, in turn, environmental health. Why raptors?
Raptors are marvelous indicators.
They are sensitive to changes, numerous, and highly mobile. Residing at the top of the food chain, raptors are sterling barometers of widespread problems lower on that chain. A fluctuation in raptor abundance may be traced to a disturbance of habitat and/or prey animals at a lower level. In other words, if the prey animals are in trouble, so are the predators. All life is connected.
Raptor studies on the Goshute ridge are divided into two parts, counting and banding. Trained observers spend the long days counting migrants. Imagine identifying a hawk as it soars past, a speck in the blue sky three miles out and a thousand feet overhead! Multiply that speck by 50 or 60 ( on some days) per hour, at different heights, close in or up to four miles out, all moving rapidly south with no time for second looks, and you have some idea of the difficulty involved. The count and identification must be accurate to maintain the integrity of the study.
My respect for the abilities of the observers stems from personal experience. For two days I served as scribe for these hawkwatchers, dutifully noting down species, distance, wind direction and any other information imparted to me from the men behind the binoculars. In addition, I would attempt to help spot passing raptors, but left the identifying to the experts. My forte, I was informed, was spotting ravens and bumblebees.
Below the observer's lookout, the other half of the study ensues. The three trapping stations are manned by volunteers, many of them first timers such as myself. Under the tutelage of a licensed bird bander, we neophytes quickly learned the rudiments of trapping and processing wild raptors. In contrast, the observers have spent years learning, on their own initiative, their special trade.
The trapping station consists of two areas, the trapping blind and the processing tent.
The trapping blind, camouflaged with greenery, looks out on a system of mist nets and spring loaded bow nets. Raptors are lured down by the use of live pigeons and sparrows. These lure birds are secured in leather harnesses and attached to a moveable line which can be manipulated by a person in the blind. Movement is essential to catch the attention of a distant hawk. Once attracted, the hawk must be "played into" a mist net or bow net. It is an acquired skill, as exciting and complicated as playing in a sport fish.