Falcons at Maasen's and 12-Mile Bluff
Sorry about the lack of pictures. My camera unclipped from my harness at 12-mile.
12-mile Bluff was supposed to be a piece of cake. Maasen’s certainly went well for us, although we banded just one baby there. The falcons had left the eyrie we’d improved for them and chosen another, with poorer drainage. While Dave and Rob obtained the single baby and brought it up top for banding, Bob rappelled down to the old eyrie and began planning further ways to make it more attractive to the falcons. They had much better production in this eyrie – when they used it! Bob thought that adding a perch after the falcons left in the fall might make it more attractive to them next spring.
The single baby was healthy. We quickly banded it and I got to return it to the eyrie. What a thrill! Maasen’s bluff is really beautiful – limestone swirled with pods of chert and what looks like feldspar to me, interspersed with a darker crystalline rock that I think might be traversine. It is also quite solid compared to some of the places we band falcons – something I quickly came to appreciate. Dislodged rocks are dangerous.
To return this baby to the eyrie, I removed my rappelling gloves and got the firmest footing I could. If I drop the falcon, it dies, so I can’t drop the falcon. Not if rock shifts, falls, or crumbles under my feet. Not if the rope rolls or moves, sending me in an unexpected direction. Not if the baby digs its talons into my skin or the mother whacks me in the head or slices my arm or binds to my back. I quickly recalled all of this before carefully unlocking and opening the kennel door, grabbing the little falcon firmly, and transferring it as far back into the eyrie as I could. I called to have the kennel sent back up the cliff and rappelled down. It was 300 feet from the top of the bluff to the bottom, and it was awesome! I was already looking forward to next year, when we should (if improvement goes well), have even more young to band.
12-Mile Bluff, located just behind the Alma power plant, is a new site. The falcons had previously nested on the Alma power plant, but had deserted the plant for the bluff. Dairyland Power has been very supportive of our work and John Thiel, the company’s biologist, was beaming like a proud father over the prospect of cliff babies. Since we weren’t sure quite where the eyrie was, everyone took a look at it before we went up. We looked for adults, babies, whitewash (aka poop), baby down, and even clouds of flies, which can be attracted to remains. Since no obvious spots showed, we decided that several people would rappel down to look. We got to the top, took a short hike through the woods, and tied off. Bob, Rob, and Dave went down. And down again. And down again. Bob proved his skills by tying off on top, climbing down a short bluff, climbing back up a chimney, and rappelling off that – with something like 50 feet of rope hanging in the air. Rob and I were wincing as we watched, since his rope ran over some small underbrush at the top, where it was tied off. If the underbrush moved or snapped, the rope would move, which could throw Bob off the chimney. I sat on the rope and held it, hoping to prevent any sudden shifts, while Rob made sure that the rope wouldn’t roll. Bob did successfully make the transition down the chimney, which the female seemed to be defending, but didn’t find any young. So we gave up. Bob rappelled to the bottom while the rest of us pulled up rope, packed everything away, and drove down to the bottom, where we discovered that the eyrie had been found. Fast forward through lunch, and it was back up the bluff!
This time, we decided that Dave and I would get the babies. To do so, we had to tie off to trees, back up through underbrush and poison ivy, laying our ropes as flat to the ground as we could, and crawl through a cedar snag. The snag was large and unrooted – ie, just sitting at the top of the bluff. Once we were through, we could descend.
Since there was a real risk of dropping the tree and killing a climber, we decided to go one at a time, Dave first. He got down to the eyrie and tucked under a ledge. Then it was my turn. I’ve never done anything quite so touchy in my life – carefully back through the underbrush, disentangle my rope bag, crawl backwards to the drop through the cedar tangle, first foot out through the cedar, untangle the bag, keep the grigri turned right, second foot out, stand up, lean back, don’t kill my partner! Through the tangle, and I hadn’t dropped anything on Dave. I headed down, at one point rappelling through a live cedar tree – or was it a juniper? – that clung to the cliff. By the end of the ordeal, I disliked the tree.
We got into position. I was on a ledge above Dave, who was positioned on a ledge in front of the eyrie. Bob and Rob belayed the kennel down to me, although it got stuck in the tree on the way down. I caught it and dropped it over the lip of my ledge to Dave, who got the four young falcons in. The eyrie was small and very, very hot – the babies were panting hard and loggy from the heat. However, they looked healthy and had good crops. Dave got the babies in and Bob and Rob took the kennel up.
We’d had to run all the ropes very close together, and of course the tree was in the way. The kennel got briefly caught under the ropes, so Dave and I had to dump rope and give Bob and Rob slack. We did so pronto, although it meant putting a lot of slack in our equipment – something that should be done only if needed, and only if you understand what you are doing. It was needed, and very badly. The kennel easily came free of the ropes and the two men got it up the cliff. We got the slack out of our equipment and dropped the ropes down the bluff. Then we waited. Man, was it ever hot! I didn’t know how those falcons could stand it. I read somewhere that the adults will shade babies with their wings. These babies needed it.
Once the falcons were banded, Bob and Rob lowered the cage again. Of course, it got caught in the tree. Dave used his rope to pop the kennel out and I swung into position to belay it down from the ledge to him, carefully avoiding a large rock that was just waiting to fall on his head. He tucked the babies in, yelled for the kennel to go up, and said, “When I tell you, drop quick. Go right past the eyrie, fast, and don’t even look!”
I don’t like fast rappels, but I did what I was told. Zoom past the eyrie without looking and pull up by Dave, feeling like a real pro. After we got down the talus (stop, pull the rope out of the grapevine or underbrush, drop it a few more feet, stop, pull the rope, etc), he told me that the babies tried to run out of the eyrie after he’d put them back. He blocked the entrance and prevented them from jumping, but wanted me out of there asap to avoid endangering the young falcons.
We got to the bottom and I drank two bottles of cold water in less than two minutes before getting serious and simply showering myself in some ice water. Eventually the rest of the crew got down from the top and we briefly celebrated the return of falcons to yet another river cliff. The four healthy babies were well worth the work! I’ll be looking for them a couple of years from now.
Sorry about the lack of pictures. My camera unclipped from my harness at 12-mile.
12-mile Bluff was supposed to be a piece of cake. Maasen’s certainly went well for us, although we banded just one baby there. The falcons had left the eyrie we’d improved for them and chosen another, with poorer drainage. While Dave and Rob obtained the single baby and brought it up top for banding, Bob rappelled down to the old eyrie and began planning further ways to make it more attractive to the falcons. They had much better production in this eyrie – when they used it! Bob thought that adding a perch after the falcons left in the fall might make it more attractive to them next spring.
The single baby was healthy. We quickly banded it and I got to return it to the eyrie. What a thrill! Maasen’s bluff is really beautiful – limestone swirled with pods of chert and what looks like feldspar to me, interspersed with a darker crystalline rock that I think might be traversine. It is also quite solid compared to some of the places we band falcons – something I quickly came to appreciate. Dislodged rocks are dangerous.
To return this baby to the eyrie, I removed my rappelling gloves and got the firmest footing I could. If I drop the falcon, it dies, so I can’t drop the falcon. Not if rock shifts, falls, or crumbles under my feet. Not if the rope rolls or moves, sending me in an unexpected direction. Not if the baby digs its talons into my skin or the mother whacks me in the head or slices my arm or binds to my back. I quickly recalled all of this before carefully unlocking and opening the kennel door, grabbing the little falcon firmly, and transferring it as far back into the eyrie as I could. I called to have the kennel sent back up the cliff and rappelled down. It was 300 feet from the top of the bluff to the bottom, and it was awesome! I was already looking forward to next year, when we should (if improvement goes well), have even more young to band.
12-Mile Bluff, located just behind the Alma power plant, is a new site. The falcons had previously nested on the Alma power plant, but had deserted the plant for the bluff. Dairyland Power has been very supportive of our work and John Thiel, the company’s biologist, was beaming like a proud father over the prospect of cliff babies. Since we weren’t sure quite where the eyrie was, everyone took a look at it before we went up. We looked for adults, babies, whitewash (aka poop), baby down, and even clouds of flies, which can be attracted to remains. Since no obvious spots showed, we decided that several people would rappel down to look. We got to the top, took a short hike through the woods, and tied off. Bob, Rob, and Dave went down. And down again. And down again. Bob proved his skills by tying off on top, climbing down a short bluff, climbing back up a chimney, and rappelling off that – with something like 50 feet of rope hanging in the air. Rob and I were wincing as we watched, since his rope ran over some small underbrush at the top, where it was tied off. If the underbrush moved or snapped, the rope would move, which could throw Bob off the chimney. I sat on the rope and held it, hoping to prevent any sudden shifts, while Rob made sure that the rope wouldn’t roll. Bob did successfully make the transition down the chimney, which the female seemed to be defending, but didn’t find any young. So we gave up. Bob rappelled to the bottom while the rest of us pulled up rope, packed everything away, and drove down to the bottom, where we discovered that the eyrie had been found. Fast forward through lunch, and it was back up the bluff!
This time, we decided that Dave and I would get the babies. To do so, we had to tie off to trees, back up through underbrush and poison ivy, laying our ropes as flat to the ground as we could, and crawl through a cedar snag. The snag was large and unrooted – ie, just sitting at the top of the bluff. Once we were through, we could descend.
Since there was a real risk of dropping the tree and killing a climber, we decided to go one at a time, Dave first. He got down to the eyrie and tucked under a ledge. Then it was my turn. I’ve never done anything quite so touchy in my life – carefully back through the underbrush, disentangle my rope bag, crawl backwards to the drop through the cedar tangle, first foot out through the cedar, untangle the bag, keep the grigri turned right, second foot out, stand up, lean back, don’t kill my partner! Through the tangle, and I hadn’t dropped anything on Dave. I headed down, at one point rappelling through a live cedar tree – or was it a juniper? – that clung to the cliff. By the end of the ordeal, I disliked the tree.
We got into position. I was on a ledge above Dave, who was positioned on a ledge in front of the eyrie. Bob and Rob belayed the kennel down to me, although it got stuck in the tree on the way down. I caught it and dropped it over the lip of my ledge to Dave, who got the four young falcons in. The eyrie was small and very, very hot – the babies were panting hard and loggy from the heat. However, they looked healthy and had good crops. Dave got the babies in and Bob and Rob took the kennel up.
We’d had to run all the ropes very close together, and of course the tree was in the way. The kennel got briefly caught under the ropes, so Dave and I had to dump rope and give Bob and Rob slack. We did so pronto, although it meant putting a lot of slack in our equipment – something that should be done only if needed, and only if you understand what you are doing. It was needed, and very badly. The kennel easily came free of the ropes and the two men got it up the cliff. We got the slack out of our equipment and dropped the ropes down the bluff. Then we waited. Man, was it ever hot! I didn’t know how those falcons could stand it. I read somewhere that the adults will shade babies with their wings. These babies needed it.
Once the falcons were banded, Bob and Rob lowered the cage again. Of course, it got caught in the tree. Dave used his rope to pop the kennel out and I swung into position to belay it down from the ledge to him, carefully avoiding a large rock that was just waiting to fall on his head. He tucked the babies in, yelled for the kennel to go up, and said, “When I tell you, drop quick. Go right past the eyrie, fast, and don’t even look!”
I don’t like fast rappels, but I did what I was told. Zoom past the eyrie without looking and pull up by Dave, feeling like a real pro. After we got down the talus (stop, pull the rope out of the grapevine or underbrush, drop it a few more feet, stop, pull the rope, etc), he told me that the babies tried to run out of the eyrie after he’d put them back. He blocked the entrance and prevented them from jumping, but wanted me out of there asap to avoid endangering the young falcons.
We got to the bottom and I drank two bottles of cold water in less than two minutes before getting serious and simply showering myself in some ice water. Eventually the rest of the crew got down from the top and we briefly celebrated the return of falcons to yet another river cliff. The four healthy babies were well worth the work! I’ll be looking for them a couple of years from now.
Labels: falcons, peregrine falcons, peregrines
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