The 'Honey-buzzard' that was a Goshawk

The breeding male Goshawk, 30.v.2016

Friday 10 June, forecast "sereno" (sunshine and cloudless sky) from dawn to dusk.  Hah!  Yea, right.  Well, only a few spots of rain, but chill breezes, and clouds clustering dark and heavy right over the valley. Then, it abruptly cleared to blue sky and hot sun around mid-afternoon, by which time I was on my way back down.

It was a strange session.  After about an hour I saw a raptor moving across the head of the side valley where the male Goshawk had quite often been seen, but this bird was fast, flappy and erratic, wings looking a touch shorter or broader.  A Sparrowhawk.

Then, after four and a half hours at the rocky watchpoint, trying to force breaks in the cloud cover by willpower alone, I picked up the thin shallow arc of a medium sized raptor lifting above the ridgeline opposite.  Honey-buzzard I thought at first, and still thought after an anxious few moments when I lost it and refound it higher and closer and gliding toward my position.  That 'giant falcon' shape of a gliding Honey-buzzard approaching is so typical, the wing distinctly flexed with that forward prominence at the wrist, straight trailing edge, tail closed and looking quite long with rounded end, head inconspicuous.  Closer, its forward speed was suddenly startling, then the bird angled away giving a side view, dark against the grey sky, and then my last views were a series of broken images as it passed behind the trees to my left and disappeared over the convex slope above. Something about these last glimpses did not look right.  Was it a Honey-buzzard?  I only got a couple of poor images, but they show the bird was a Goshawk!

Honey-buzzard (left), Goshawk (right), to show similarity in silhouette of birds approaching
 in glide, rather like a giant falcon.  Goshawk 10.vi.2016.

Somewhat chastened, I resolved yet again to look thoroughly before coming to conclusions about identification.  The images show subtle differences in the silhouette that I might have seen in better light, or had I not in my mind already pencilled-in the bird as a Honey-buzzard, or had I kept binoculars on the bird instead of trying for some record images.  And the Goshawk image clearly shows the projecting undertail coverts on one side, which I did not see in life.  The bird appeared distinctly large and bulky to me, close enough to the scale of a Honey-buzzard anyway, and I now wondered if it had to be a female Goshawk; the adult male seen quite regularly now is definitely more slender overall.  It was certainly not the female that appeared over the nest woods with the male on the 7th (see previous post) because that bird was showing evidence of moult in the wing.  Why have I not seen it/her before?  Perhaps I have, but only at extreme range.

The unfamiliar Goshawk, 10.vi.2016, N Apennines

The bird I now knew to be a Goshawk flew almost directly over the nest site on its way toward my position.  I had not heard a single sound from the site in nearly five hours watch and now began to get uneasy.  The day before I had been high on the other slope of the cloud-filled valley, trying to peer through the ribbons of cloud blowing up the slope from below.  On my way down about 12.45, the cloud beginning to clear, I paused to look across over the tract of woods where I know the nest is situated.  Almost immediately I heard a sudden outbreak of loud and prolonged kek-kek-kek calls and repeated wailing, some wailing calls sounding thinner, as if from at least one large chick.  There was silence for a couple of minutes, then the whole strident episode started again.  No bird was seen leaving the scene.  But I was quite shocked by the energy put into all the calls and really wondered if something serious had occurred (wild thoughts of another Gos taking a chick, or a Marten perhaps, or the male bird even...), or could it have been just the female seeing off the male partner again?  Seeing today's large and unfamilar Goshawk made me wonder again about the cause of yesterday's violent alarms.

But then, at 14.10, I heard a quiet and short k-k-k call from the site, one quiet wail, and there was a bird arrowing away down the centre of the valley.  The male Goshawk!  So, the nesting attempt seems to be still on course.  I just hope it can withstand all this rain.

Thank you for some heat and sunshine

Male Goshawk, 7.vi.2016, N Apennines

Day after day of maddening weather in this pocket of the north Apennines.  Remorseless  dark grey cloud, heavy rain showers and wind, interspersed with thunderstorms and rare blue breaks in the cloud with precious warm sunshine.  My behaviour looks pretty crazy too.  Set off up the Goshawk valley with hope in my heart, yesterday's rain dripping off the trees and down my neck, today's rain on its way in the dark banks of cloud already descending over the hilltops, head back down having seen little or nothing of any raptors.

But what a difference a change in the weather can make!  The day before yesterday (7 June) dawned with a faint mist in the valley that soon cleared in the sun's heat to leave a blue sky, from mid-morning decorated with isolated puffs of snow-white cumulus that did not build into a pall of raincloud until late afternoon.  The kind of day that many here would regard as typical for June, unlike recent weeks, which have typified March or April.

And straight away raptors were in view: a Honey-buzzard tussling with a Common Buzzard, another Honey, whistle-calling and wing-shivering; and plenty of Goshawk activity.

I was only just completing a first scan of the ridgeline opposite, after arriving at my observation point at around 8.30, when I picked up a Goshawk flying low over the canopy further up the valley to my left.  The white undertail coverts were what drew my eye to him, otherwise I would probably have missed him against the complicated background of the wooded slope.  He moved in a diagonal up towards the ridge crest, with what looked like unusually laboured and rapid wingbeats; I wondered if he was carrying a substantial prey item but could not see clearly at the distance.  I momentarily lost my footing on the rocks and the small movement of my binoculars was enough to make me lose the bird.  I heard some k-k-k calls from the nest area soon afterwards and wondered if he had brought food.

Inset: stout body & distinct 'hand' of Goshawk

Only about 20 minutes later there was again a Goshawk in the same upper part of the valley, I assumed it was the same bird; this time he gained height and moved up the valley to fly back and forth around the rocky slopes and peaks of the local mountain.  A couple of the distant images I got show a distinct bulge in the crop, so perhaps he had recently fed.  He investigated the rock slopes for several minutes before moving decisively toward the high woodlands to my left, and out of sight.

About an hour and a half later I again heard a k-k-k call from the nest area, but very short and low key.  A few minutes later I just glimpsed the presumed male streaking down the lower part of the valley far to my right; he must have delivered prey and then left the nest area below the tops of the trees immediately in front of me.  He came back into view for a few moments, now heading back up the valley, but was soon hidden again by trees.  After a few minutes, during a period of strong and agitated kek-kek-kek calling from the nest area, with loud wails, what I presumed was the same bird came back in view around the ridgeline opposite.  This time he gained height in a combination of soaring and active flight, and performed a short display, quite like a Common Buzzard's 'roller-coaster' flight.  He made several deep but quite rapid wingbeats, rushing upward, before hanging for an instant at the apex of a steep curve then folding his wings and arrowing downward*.  Then the same again after a few seconds of lateral flight.

I was amazed, partly because I had never seen any element of Goshawk display (all my late winter or early spring visits have been marred by adverse weather or lack of visible action), and partly because I could not quite read how to interpret this performance.  It did not seem the appropriate time for a normal courtship display, because nesting is well-established by now (judging by calls), with the female presumably attending to chicks; perhaps it had a mainly territorial element.  I did wonder, with the relatively frequent sightings of a male Goshawk, if an intruding male had appeared.  At a distance, and with my poor images, I could not determine whether two males were in the vicinity.

Female Goshawk, 7.vi.2016
Apologies for very poor quality
(extreme crop of soft and badly exposed image)!

Shortly after the loud and excited calling coming from the nest area, more calling started, evidently from a bird in the air over the nest woods unseen in the deep axis of the valley below me; then another Goshawk flew actively up into view.  Clearly a different bird; less slender, and larger overall, with a rather tatty appearance due to moult.  I assumed this must be the female of the pair, the moult being consistent with nesting.  Then there was a vigorous chase up and along the ridgeline opposite, the assumed female generally harassing the male (but positions reversed in the image shown).  This behaviour is entirely consistent with several descriptions (eg. see the website cited below) of the nesting female being intolerant of the male remaining close to the nest when chicks are present, and sometimes chasing the male away. Unfortunately my camera is unable to focus on flying birds moving in front of any background except sky, so none of the images is much use.  The female soon came down to the site again while the second bird disappeared down the valley.

An outstanding morning: warm sunshine, a male Goshawk in a few moments of dramatic display, the presumed nesting female up in my sight for the first time, lots of vocalisation, some fast interaction between two Goshawks.  Of course, the birds are unmarked and I have never seen them 'at home' in the nest site woodlands, so my assumption that they are the nesting pair is just that!

Goshawk chasing; male on left, female on right in this image; mostly the other way around

*This appears the opposite from descriptions of the 'classic' display, in which most of the upswoop is without wingbeats but the over-the-top downswoop uses wingbeats.

See this brief very well-illustrated account of a watch on a Goshawk nest in England (link verified active 9.vi.2016):
http://www.thebirdsofsussex.co.uk/Articles/goshawk1.htm