Overhead

 By Keith Michael

A cue of pigeons explodes from a cornice over Hudson Street. Maybe it’s just their flock-bonding morning laps around the neighborhood? I don’t think so. Nope. That bird at the back is darker, longer, slimmer, faster. Closing in. A Cooper’s Hawk. Owww, blinded by the sun. What happened? The pigeons’ circling has slowed. They’re settling back down into their rooftop lineup for roll call.

Winter is a time for what I call Prepositional Birding: look down for sparrows, look across the water for ducks, look amid a flock of geese for that one goose of a different color, look through the bare branches for owls, and look up for raptors. Oh, and one more: look inside a shop to see if they have hot chocolate.

Call me crazy (people do) but I may like winter birding more than any other time of the year. I have a good coat with a hood, hat, scarf, gloves, and layers of sweaters, so the cold doesn’t really get to me, unless there are gale force winds. For that, there are more sweaters, a balaclava, and long-johns. Going out, there are frequently miles of NYC beaches, forests, marshes, or grasslands completely to myself. When you’re the only one there, you know that not one other person in a metro area of 20 million people is seeing what you’re seeing. That makes you feel, well, special—and makes you imagine that the birds that you’re seeing are even more special as well.

It’s true, our summer birds fly south to look for food during the winter, but other northern birds see NYC as south. They fly here during the cold months to take advantage of our world class New York City food scene. While we’re fretting about bundling up, birds just bring along their own down coats.

I’ll try to stick to looking up for raptors during these next paragraphs, but other prepositions may sneak in. 

Cooper’s Hawks, those long-tailed pigeon-terrorizers, and Red-tailed Hawks, overall bulkier and with rust-colored tails, are the most common winter hawks around the West Village. But a few weeks ago, seen from Battery Park City, a Peregrine Falcon and a Bald Eagle were soaring high overhead. I was really willing that young, still scruffy eagle to keep drifting north so that it could receive the accolade of becoming my West Village Bird #120! But no, it chose New Jersey. I’ll just have to keep waiting.

For the real winter Bald Eagle show, go to Staten Island. Three pairs now call the western borough home, and this time of year is when the couples renew their lifetime vows. Though there’s still snow, the ladies have already laid eggs for the summer season of raising toddler eagles. They have to start early. Eagles are big birds, so it takes the youngsters a long time to grow up and be ready to survive next year’s winter. Mount Loretto Unique Area, Conference House Park, or along the north shore are the places to go to reliably see them. Tip: If you go to Mount Loretto at low tide, you might see several Harbor Seals hauled out on the rocks along the south shore sunning themselves. Oops, I looked out and along.

Can’t get enough of Bald Eagles? I can’t. Head up along the Hudson River by Metro North. Sit by the window on the river side of the train. Along the way, you’ll likely see several eagles flying over the water or perched in trees along the tracks. Your destination is Croton Point Park, a short walk from the Croton-Harmon station. There’s one nesting pair of eagles near the train station, and if it’s cold and the river is partially frozen, look out over the ice for the eagles that have just caught fish and are dining al fresco. It’s the adults that have the white heads and tails. It takes eagles four to five years to mature. The young eagles are mottled dark brown with random white feathers. They look like half-baked cookies. If you have a car, or a friend with a car, take a day trip a little further north to Georges Island and Verplanck. Last January, when the river was really frozen, in one scan north to south—above my head, over the river, through the trees, and on the ice—I counted 63 eagles! Yup, that earned an exclamation point.

Other more uncommon winter birds of prey to look for (if you’re out and about the wilder patches of NYC) are the Northern Harrier, an owl-faced hawk frequently seen hunting over former landfills like Shirley Chisholm State Park, Brooklyn; the Red-shouldered Hawk, which is like a smaller Red-tailed hawk with reddish shoulders, but they also have a redder chest; and a really classy raptor that occasionally shows up in winter all of the way from the Arctic tundra is the Rough-legged Hawk which soars high and has noticeably dark splotches on the underside of its wings. A light-colored Rough-legged Hawk was recently a star attraction at Brookfield Park on Staten Island. Closer to home, keep looking up for American Kestrels, small orange and blue falcons, that might be hanging out on the finials of water towers or lamp posts around the neighborhood.

 There’s a ruckus in the trees across the street. The Blue Jays are throwing a fit. I think they’re giving that Cooper’s Hawk their collective “what’s what,” “Not on our block, mate!”