Juvenile Goshawks flying free!

One of the two juvenile Goshawks, 25.vii.2016, N Apennines

In the previous post I mentioned that I hadn't been expecting juveniles flying free above the woods for some days yet, simply because last year it was about a week into August before I saw one.  On the 25th I went again to the narrow ledge at the top of a rocky outcrop on the valley side downstream of the nest area.  The site itself is not visible from that 'edge' watchpoint, but the valley downstream extends left to right (north) immediately below the edge, and the male typically flies (like a rocket through the treetops) down this section of valley after a food delivery.  I went along there mid-morning again, hoping that I might by a stroke of good fortune coincide with a food drop and get a chance of seeing one of the adults.

juvenile Goshawk, 25.vii.2016

For about an hour and a half there was just a sporadic juvenile Goshawk cry, similar to the adult wail but weaker and higher in pitch.  At first, each set of three would be separated by 10 or 15 minutes, but abruptly and for no visible reason, the gap shortened and then there was a flurry of excited calling from at least two birds together.  I was on the alert in case an adult had just brought food and would be visible leaving the site, but instead the calling got louder and even more urgent, apparently closer.  Then I caught side of a Goshawk flying quickly up from woods downstream of  the nest site, at first close to the foot of the far slope of the valley, then higher and out into the open airspace above the valley and in front of my watchpoint.  It had the streaked breast and slightly more delicate appearance of a juvenile, and was promptly followed by a second!

With almost continuous calling, the two Goshawks dashed around the area right in front of me, sometimes apart, sometimes chasing and grappling with a sudden flash of underwings and spread tails, gradually  spiralling wider and higher.  One would often come within about 20 metres of my position, half-hidden by the overhanging leaves from the wood at my back.  The fast-flying hawks above, the wild shrieking calls: all this and a summer's day in the green hills!

juvenile Goshawk, 25.vii.2016, N Apennines

After a couple of minutes the two moved away over the woods behind, still calling, then returned, then as they moved away behind again, their calls became fainter and stopped.  I waited a long time but didn't see them return, and don't really know if they had already returned to the nest site from a different direction or had moved away for  wider exploration.  I strongly suspect, but don't know for sure, that this was their first extended flight above the canopy; I've visited the watchpoints around the nest area often this month, and have only heard evidence of juvenile movements within the woods, ranging between an estimated 200 metres upstream from the nest tree and 200 m in a downstream direction.

For concentrated excitement, and sustained proximity to wild raptors in flight, I can't imagine those minutes will be surpassed.  It was deeply satisfying because I've spent too many hours trying to keep in touch with key events at this nest, listening for calls and looking out for Goshawks in flight in the valley.  And too many hours worrying that someone will disturb them, or that another night's torrential rain or leaf-shredding hailstorm would be one stress too many, or that the male will not be able to keep the food supply going, or that a fledgling will fall from the nest.  Of course it's somewhat absurd to get personally involved, but there it is.

Perhaps it was so moving because this year I've been lucky enough to follow events from late March, when the adults were starting to reoccupy the nest site, and mating (often, judging by the bouts of increasingly frenzied calling), right up to the juveniles flying free above the canopy (there might be a third to make that step, perhaps significantly younger, judging by the thin calls still coming from the area when the others had flown off).