Bye Bye Birdie: Falcon Flies Off, Headed Toward Parts Unknown

By MATT PELIKAN

It's difficult to prove that something is absent. But it appears that the Vineyard's hottest celebrity flew the coop sometime Tuesday afternoon.

The flight was self-propelled, and the celebrity was a slate-gray, foot-long predatory bird, a red-footed falcon, the first member of its species ever found flying wild in North America.

Discovered hunting over the sandplain grassland at Katama airfield on August 8 by Island birding maestro Vern Laux, the bird was definitively identified two days later on the basis of photographs taken by West Tisbury birder Sally Anderson. A potent aerialist, the bird spent the next two weeks alternating lengthy, swooping flights with extended periods of perching almost motionless on signs, posts and shrubs at the grass-runway airport. Through binoculars and telescopes, crowds of delighted observers watched the bird capture and eat grasshoppers, dragonflies, butterflies and the occasional small rodent.

But the last firm report of the falcon came early Tuesday afternoon, and a short item in the Thursday morning Boston Globe announced the departure of the rare visitor. At Katama airport around noon yesterday, third-hand reports of a sighting earlier in the day were circulating. But despite hours of looking, none of about a dozen birders interviewed for this story had actually seen the bird, or spoken directly with someone who had. An hour's watching and searching around the area by this reporter also failed to turn up the falcon.

Among the disappointed observers were Elliott and Rosemary Valentine, who had left on Tuesday from Dearborn, Mich., driving cross-country to see the bird. Mr. Valentine said that such trips were not unusual for him and his wife: They made three separate trips to California, two by plane and one by car, to see another rarity, a greater sand-plover, before they finally found it.

Mr. Valentine remained hopeful that the falcon would show up, and was philosophical about the prospect of missing a bird after a day and a half of driving. "But I'll get over it much faster than my wife, who really feels the sorrow of missing a bird," he said.

Kate Gridley brought a teenaged friend, Charles Barstow, from Middlebury, Vt., to seek the falcon. Mr. Barstow is a veteran of long-distance bird chasing, having traveled to New Jersey to see a curlew sandpiper two years ago. But this time, his luck may have run out: "I wish we had come sooner," he said. After scanning the airport for a few minutes, the Vermonters opted to drive around the area in hope of encountering the bird.

Red-footed falcons normally breed in open country in central Eurasia and migrate thousands of miles to winter in southern and western Africa. Many species of Eurasian birds make it to North America each year, some routinely, some as startling, one-time vagrants. But because it neither winters nor breeds in western Europe, the portion of Eurasia closest to North America, the red-footed falcon was not a species anyone expected to find on this side of the Atlantic. Part of the excitement generated by the bird stems from the total surprise of its discovery.

Within days of the bird's identification, a rumor circulated that a falconer in Connecticut had lost a red-footed falcon that he (or she) had been keeping illegally. But so far, the rumor has acquired no substance. And given the publicity received by the bird, any legitimate collector who had lost it would have spoken up by now. Subsequent discoveries may alter the picture, but for now, bird experts generally agree that as implausible as it may sound, the falcon most likely flew here on its own.

Like many other strongly migratory species, red-footed falcons are prone to wander off their most direct migration route. The species has occurred hundreds of times in the British Isles, and there are even a handful of records of this species from Iceland. Given its flying prowess and its species' history of bad aim, a red-footed falcon could very well have crossed the Atlantic, either from Iceland to Newfoundland (perhaps with a refueling stop in Greenland), or from Africa across the tropics to the West Indies.

Word of rarities travels rapidly in birdwatching circles, by means of telephone networks and the Internet. By the morning after the falcon was identified, some of the region's best birders had arrived on the scene, including David Sibley, the author and artist of an acclaimed field guide, and Wayne Peterson, a co-author of Birds of Massachusetts, a definitive compendium of Bay State bird records. Hundreds more observers followed, from as far away as Florida and California.

And thanks to the extreme rarity of the bird, the ease and reliability with which it could be viewed and the Vineyard's high profile as a destination for celebrities, news of this rarity's sighting jumped from the birding world into the mainstream consciousness. Both Island newspapers covered the bird's discover intensively. A story about the bird's discovery appeared in The New York Times. Wire services and cable and broadcast networks carried the story into national markets, and features on the bird even made it into European newspapers.

Ultimately, this "crossover appeal" may have been the most memorable aspect of the bird's story. Entire families of nonbirders, both tourists and Island residents, went to see the falcon, standing patiently in line to squint through birdwatchers' telescopes. Easy to view and fun to watch, the intrepid hawk was a splendid ambassador for birdwatching. And its popularity highlighted the value that many Islanders and Vineyard visitors place on nature and wildlife.

No firm figure exists for how many people saw the bird during its Vineyard sojourn, but somewhere in the low thousands seems like a believable estimate. Hundreds of birders from off-Island pumped thousands of dollars into the regional economy as they bought ferry tickets, piled into taxi cabs, rented cars, and stocked up on food and drink.

"It has been crazy," reported Becca Lundstrom, a manager at Whosie's Diner at the Katama airpark. The diner, said Ms. Lundstrom, recently introduced an expanded lunch menu, which proved to be a big hit among flocks of visiting birders. "Our lunch business skyrocketed," Ms. Lundstrom said, providing a significant boost to the diner's short summer season.

But every summer ends, and Mr. Laux speculated Wednesday evening that a cold front early in the week and a northeast breeze on Tuesday persuaded the bird that it was time to move on. It may have just relocated on the Island, but most likely the falcon headed south and west along the coast, responding to its migratory instincts, said Mr. Laux. Birders along its probable course will keep a sharp lookout for the falcon; it could very well turn up in a place like Cape May, N.J., where an annual census counts migrating hawks as they are concentrated by the narrowing of the state's tip, jutting south like a fang into the mouth of Delaware Bay.

For now, the location of the bird remains a mystery. But regardless of whether it resurfaces or is gone for good, the red-footed falcon will long be remembered as one of the highest points in the long, illustrious history of Vineyard birding.

Matt Pelikan is the editor of Winging It, newsletter of the American Birding Association.