On January 26th, a female falcon was found on the road in Surf City. She was immediately taken to Toms River Avian Care for medical attention. Unfortunately, she was in critical condition and passed away the same evening. It is believed that she was either hit by a car or was involved in a fight. She was banded.
It was V/26, also known by me as “V” and “Bey.”
V was hatched on a power plant in Milford, Connecticut, way back in 2008. Now, at sixteen, she was the oldest known breeding Peregrine in New Jersey. And she was a true beast.
Peregrine falcons are known for being bold and expressive when communicating their feelings. They can be pretty aggressive towards humans who encroach upon their territory. However, it’s reassuring to know that these birds are brilliant and can assess the risk of attacking a human and, therefore, are less likely to strike.
Yet V always attacked just a little too close for comfort. She was fearless. There were times I turned my back on her for just a moment while banding her chicks or working with cameras at her nest and felt that one swoop she’d make at my head, so close I could feel the draft her wings cut through the air, and hear the woosh so close I wished I’d worn a hard hat.
V was famous for landing on the nest platform during bandings. She was as bold as they’re made. And when she didn’t land, I remember Kathy taking a few steps off the platform as we were leaving and pausing before her head sank below it, knowing V would land even before she was out of sight. Kathy knew she could momentarily stand face-to-face with this legendary beast and cherished every moment.
V/26 was a true elder, a matriarch, both symbolically and practically. During her storied life, she raised and fledged an astonishing 36 young banded falcons.
Losing her was profoundly saddening on so many levels. Honestly, it’s the end of an era. The loss is incalculable.
V was recovered from the road and presumed to have been downed from a fight or a car strike. As I learned watching Jo Durt stoop over the sea the first night I met her, the margin of error in Peregrine acrobatics is minuscule. And despite her experience, V was getting older. At some point, things get more challenging.
But beyond my sadness at the loss of V, I was perplexed and unnerved by the news of her death.
As strange as it sounds, a week earlier, I knew from our cameras that something was not right with her and had already come to believe that she was dead. Yet she was recovered alive, though just barely, a week later. The timeline was just so strange. The Little Egg Cam had told me she was dead before she was dead. Nothing added up.
We had expanded our Peregrine Prey Cam project to run all year because we discovered we can resight so many banded falcons during the off-season. They may only show up once or just sit for an afternoon, but we’ve seen dozens of banded falcons on our cams who had never been seen in the wild since their bandings. It’s a spectacularly useful extension of the project.
And V’s nest camera was no exception. In fact, it was one of the most significant sources of band resightings we’ve had so far. I often wonder why so many falcons visit her nest specifically. I like to think they know she’s the true elder and just come to pay their respects.
Whatever the reason, V, having the wisdom of experience, offers each visitor a small amount of her limited patience. You can sit on the tower for a minute or two but linger just a moment too long, and V will show you what an experienced Peregrine can do to intruders.
And so it went, as always, for most of this fall and early winter. New falcons stop by and linger for a bit too long, and then V shows up with her mate to give them the boot.
But something changed in January, a few weeks before she was found on the road. She suddenly stopped appearing on camera. Her mate still did, but he seemed increasingly overwhelmed. Soon, all manner of banded falcons were running amok at her nest. Nesting adults from nearby towers visited. One year olds were landing. Even Jo Durt was seen there one afternoon. It was absolute chaos and totally out of the ordinary.
Something was clearly not right on camera. The whole order of things had been turned upside down so quickly. And V was nowhere to be found. I could only conclude our Peregrines had lost their elder and a new era of anarchy was upon us.
And then, strangely, about a week later, she was recovered from the road, still alive, though just barely. And then she was gone, returned to dirt.
There were explanations, but none of them sat right with me. Perhaps V had met her match, and maybe that battle had taken her further from the nest site, and that’s why she wasn’t being seen on camera.
I soon Iost all confidence in any explanation I’d come up with just a week later, when V’s mate suddenly vanished too, and a one year old female who couldn’t lay an egg for all the pigeon in the world stumbled into this void and took the place of our beloved elder and the castle she’d ruled for 14 years.
Say something kind