Almost every day, kestrels perch on power lines, harriers coast low over meadows, red-tailed hawks swoop down on trees and phone poles, and turkey vultures rise on spiraling thermals. Last winter, a pair of bald eagles nested in a lonely dead cottonwood just off the highway.

I’m always hoping that the unidentified raptor ahead will reveal a full-coverage black helmet and long, crooked wings once I get close. But despite all this roadside raptor action, the peregrine falcon is the one bird I really don’t expect to see. While this bird may have a larger global range than most others (every continent except Antarctica), around here, a peregrine sighting is still a rare treat.

The smaller tiercel (the male) and falcon (the female) mate for life. The nest, or eyrie (EYE-ree), is usually a hole or cave, often on the side of a tall cliff above water. Peregrines make few alterations to their chosen hole-in-the-wall, besides scratching out a little dirt to cradle three or four reddish-brown eggs. The eggs hatch after a month, and fluffy gray chicks fledge at six or seven weeks old.

Peregrine falcons are the acrobats of the raptor world, so chicks have a lot to learn before they are truly independent. Famous for its death-defying “stoop”, the peregrine rockets toward the earth at speeds of up to 200 mph, snatching feathered prey in mid-air. The courtship antics of the peregrine are equally athletic, when high-speed males deliver food to upside-down flying females.

Falco peregrinus comes from Latin words for hook-shaped and wandering. The former refers to the shape of the beak or claws, the latter to the bird’s migration habits. Some tundra-nesting peregrines travel 15,000 miles a year, wintering over in South America. Our local subspecies, F. peregrinus anatum, migrates to Central and South America each fall.

Peregrine populations declined sharply by the 1970’s, due to the now-banned chemical pesticide DDT. A 1979 Colorado survey counted three nesting pairs in the state. Reintroduction efforts nationwide have been successful, and more than 100 pairs are now known in Colorado. In New York City, nearly 20 pairs now nest on tops of skyscrapers, from which they stoop to capture their fill of pigeons and starlings.

A few weeks ago, staff and volunteers reported a positive peregrine falcon identification at the Durango Nature Center. I wasn’t around to see it. But this exciting news means I may get to add the peregrine falcon to my roadside raptor list after all.


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