Celestial fireworks

Male American Kestrel by Terry Sohl

Summer’s grand finale

Many birders point to a “spark” bird that first ignited their awareness of the feathered world and forever changed their life. I have my own spark bird—the elegant Hooded Merganser—which opened my eyes to the wondrous world of birds as it drifted serenely across a woodland pond, dressed in its exotic-looking plumage. But right on the heels of that transformative sighting, came a second bird that ensured I would never view the world around me in quite the same way again.

In my mid-twenties, I was driving home from the university where I was taking my first ornithology class. As a self-proclaimed mammal person, I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about birds but was following the recommendation to carry a pair of binoculars wherever I went. As I approached my house, I noticed a bird the size of a robin perched on a fencepost and stopped to take a look. I don’t know what I expected to see. A brown-streaked bird, perhaps? But the vibrant colors that met my eyes—burnt orange, dusky blue, white, black racing stripes on a delicately fierce face—sparked wonder and awe. How had I never noticed this striking bird before? Maybe it was rare. Pulling out my field guide, I discovered that it was a male American Kestrel—North America’s tiniest, most colorful falcon—a common bird that frequents open landscapes nationwide.

Months later, I would go to Wyoming to reintroduce the closely related Peregrine Falcon to the wild to help save the species, and my conversion to the bird world would be complete. Seeing young peregrines speed through the sky—diving, dodging, rolling—captured my imagination and inspired me to pursue a bird-filled future.

Now, decades later, it’s mid-August and I settle in with my coffee for a quiet morning read. But a glance out my window has me reaching for my binoculars. Four recently fledged kestrels are perched nearby on a large arching branch that stretches skyward from an old, downed tree. The perch is a favorite among my local bird life, providing a ridgetop resting place for birds ranging from imposing Great Horned Owls to tiny Tree Swallows. I suspect I’m about to be treated to an aerial show. And I am not disappointed.

The four kestrels—three males, identifiable by the blue on their wings, and one chestnut-with-black-stripes female—do not stay put for long. Within seconds a male lifts off, banks sharply, then strafes the perched birds, launching another male into motion. The two dive at one another then speed skyward again before dropping toward their perched companions. The female takes flight, sweeps over her former nestmates, then dives at one of the males, which tilts sideways, presenting his talons as the birds’ boomerang-shaped wings slice through the quiet morning. Two of the kestrels streak past my windows then zoom up and over my house, disappearing momentarily. I struggle to keep track of the four flying birds whose speed and acrobatics belie their inexperience. Their flights are kinetic, electric, dynamic—energizing. In comparison, my coffee suddenly seems like decaf.

In the coming weeks, the four youngsters expand their horizons. As I walk with my border collies along the dirt roads that crisscross my rural neighborhood, I see the young kestrels perched on power lines, diving at each other and other birds, and hovering over fields, eyeing grasshoppers and small rodents. Able to see ultraviolet light, kestrels can spot the urine trails left by voles and identify habitats with high densities of these chunky little creatures. The birds are also drawn to insect aggregations. In August 2021, I had one of my best-ever kestrel sightings when I counted 27 American Kestrels perched in and around a neighbor’s field that crawled with grasshoppers.

But despite such memorable sightings, population numbers of this diminutive falcon have decreased by more than 50 percent in the last 50 years. Much of their open-country habitat has been urbanized or turned into industrial-scale farms, and the standing dead trees on which the birds depend for their nesting cavities are too often felled. The rampant use of pesticides has diminished the availability of insects on which the birds feed, and may be reducing the falcons’ clutch sizes and hatching success.

Having spent years navigating the complexities of reintroducing critically endangered birds to the wild, I’m an avid proponent of efforts to keep common birds common. I haven’t always been lucky enough to have American Kestrels in my neighborhood. But this year, the birds’ celestial fireworks enlivened a quiet month for bird activity. And as they lit up the big sky over my home, they filled me with hope that the colorful little falcon that first sparked my interest in birds will ignite a similar flame in generations of birders to come.

Take a small step to help birds

It’s easy to feel helpless in the face of habitat destruction and disappearing wildlife. But according to the US Fish and Wildlife Service, over 96 million people in North America watch birds. If each of us does something to help them, we may be able to reverse declining bird numbers.

Here are a few things you can do:

1. If you own property in a rural area, leave dead trees in place when it’s safe to do so since their cavities are in high demand for nesting kestrels and other cavity nesters.

2. Provide a clean water source for birds. Bird baths (with a shallow bowl) are a big draw for birds year-round and can be a boon to birds that are resting and recharging in your area during the fall migration.

3. Buying organic produce, which is grown without pesticides, is a win for birds and a win for our health.

4. Avoid using rodenticides around your home since raptors can be poisoned by feeding on rodents that have ingested these toxins.

5. One of the first steps to helping birds is to be aware of them. I regularly meet people who’ve never noticed any bird other than perhaps an American Robin. And yet most of us are surrounded by an astonishing variety of them. If you’re new to the avian world, download the Merlin app to help you identify the bird sounds in your neighborhood. And visit Bird Cast (then enter your county in the migration dashboard) for a fascinating look at the number and species of birds that are migrating over your home each night in the next few months. For example, an estimated 530,900(!) birds flew over the county where I live in Montana on the night of August 30, 2024.

Thank you for reading and thanks for all you do to help birds!

Until next time …

This branch on a fallen dead tree has become a favorite perch for my local birds.

P.S. Thank you to those of you who’ve read about the juvenile Peregrine Falcons that captivated me in Wyoming in my new book Feather Trails—A Journey of Discovery Among Endangered Birds. If you enjoyed the book, please consider writing a review on Amazon or Goodreads.