“Oh, my gosh! What’s that in the road ahead?” I exclaimed as I stepped on the brakes to avoid a collision.

Mid-afternoon on a pleasantly warm February day, I was returning home from an outing at the Merced National Wildlife Refuge in California’s vast Central Valley. Every year, thousands of geese, cranes, white pelicans, ducks and countless other bird species gather to feed and refresh during their annual migrations from far and wide. While it was a satisfying photography outing, nothing I observed there compared with what I came upon only a block away from my home in the oak woodland foothills of the Sierra, south of Yosemite National Park.

Smack dab in the middle of the road was a hawk, a Red-tailed Hawk. Not one, but three! What were they doing? I quickly pulled off the pavement to take a closer look.

One hawk appeared to be injured, and unable to fly. With its ragged tail pushed to the blacktop, the bird arched its back and shoulders upwards, the wings extended, but curved downward to the pavement and forming an umbrella-like contour. Again and again, it lifted its head and shoulders and bobbled its wings as if trying to take off. The other two hawks stood by, as if offering encouragement. 

My worried mind conjured up a myriad of thoughts: How could I help? Could I trap it without causing further harm? Should I contact the owner of a wildlife rescue service who lives in my community? Or, maybe I should just let things be, and see what transpires.

The injured hawk soon turned and faced me. It was then that I realized I was mistaken. The drama playing out before me was a dominant hawk picking apart a freshly killed ground squirrel while the other two hawks looked on, waiting for an opportunity to steal the prize. So much for anthropomorphizing about one raptor helping a competitor in distress. 

Over the next half hour, this bodacious band of battling buteos engaged in talon to talon combat, with aerial attacks and ground assaults, vying for a piece of the fresh kill. All the while, shadows moving across the pavement told me Turkey Vultures were circling overhead. There I sat, enthralled at the activity, and mindful of my good fortune to have arrived just at the right moment.

Meanwhile, seven or eight vehicles drove through from both directions. Some drivers, seeing me sitting in the dirt on the road shoulder, mouthed an apology for disturbing the scene. I nodded a “thank you” and motioned them through. With each passing car, the bird at the buffet stood its ground, seemingly indifferent to the parade of horsepower rolling by. 

Everyone stopped or slowed down, except the driver of a large pickup truck who pulled up next to the birds, and stopped right there. Now feeling threatened, the hawks took flight, and thus ended the drama of the roadkill buffet.

In a previous post, I wrote about an exceptional experience following a Red-Tailed Hawk as it hunted for squirrels and lizards. But, three hawks vying for a bite of a fat and juicy ground squirrel is truly extraordinary, as you will discover in the video below. Sit back in your front row seat and experience the dramatic, blow by blow avian altercation as it unfolds. Afterwards, you will be sure to sing the age-old raptor refrain: “Springtime is coming and the squirrels are getting fat.”

If you enjoyed this post, please share the link with your friends. To be added to my mailing list for future articles, contact me at: robertgroos1@gmail.com. Your information will not be shared, and you can unsubscribe at anytime. Thank you.

Postscript:

Have you ever reflected upon the nature of chance, how good fortune seems to follow some individuals, and avoid others? They say that luck happens where opportunity and preparation meet. I was lucky to come upon this scene just as it unfolded, and I had my camera gear at hand. The aphorism certainly applies in this instance. 

I wonder, though, if there is not something more in play that often allows me to be at the right place at the right time to record some incredible photographic opportunities. Having camera in hand is the easy part. Being there, however, is something altogether different.

This particular day, I had originally planned to go on a group hike, but changed my mind the night before. Had I gone hiking, I would still have been on trail when this avian altercation took place. 

Instead, I chose to go to the Merced National Wildlife Preserve. The birding was interesting, the weather mild, and the sun shining. I considered staying a little longer, and almost drove to the nearby San Luis preserve to see what was happening there. In either case, I would have necessarily arrived home much later in the day.

As fate would have it, I decided to pack up and call it a day. I arrived a block from my house just in time to witness another one of nature’s fascinating dramas, camera gear in hand and ready to go. Good luck, indeed. 

Arthur Fellig, a renown New York photojournalist in the 30s-40s, when asked how he always managed (to the envy of his peers) to capture great photos of breaking news stories, would famously respond: “F-8 and be there.”

_____________________________________

Good news about my neighbor, Betty, the smoke-gray Wild Turkey hen I wrote about last year: she’s back. March 4, she returned to my property, accompanied by nine other hens and followed by one very attentive Tom.