Yesterday I biked from my home near Cass Park in Ithaca to Taughannock Falls 
State Park. I used the Black Diamond Trail  which is conveniently direct and 
safe from motor traffic, and goes through a variety of habitats past nice views 
and many lovely waterfalls of various sizes. It climbs from lake level to the 
top of Taughannock gorge ever so gently for 8 1/2 miles, yet the return trip 
can be made largely by coasting. All the distractions along the BDT slow me 
down, so for most of the trip I played leapfrog with a couple of steady 
walkers, as I kept pausing for real or imagined birds, until they finally 
pulled far ahead when at least 3 Eastern Towhees repeatedly called at me while 
staying hidden in dense nearby vegetation (Later I finally saw one more by luck 
than skill.) The other drawback to biking the BDT is the noise of the fine 
gravel under my tires which obscures bird sounds and drives me nuts. If it 
wasn’t for the energy-efficiency of biking, including the coasting return trip, 
I’d walk instead. 

My goal was to see a nesting Peregrine Falcon. I was warned, correctly, that it 
would be hard to see and not much to look at, but I wanted to bear witness to 
the species’ return. When I started birding as a kid, Peregrines were already 
gone from eastern North America, and I was my twenties visiting  the Pacific 
coast when I first saw a Peregrine. It was the inspiring work of folks at the 
Cornell Lab or Ornithology, along with scores of volunteers in the field, which 
gave these spectacular birds another chance to live in our part of the world. 
The birds could finally return after the banning of some of the poisons whose 
incredibly widespread use had so harmed Peregrines, Bald Eagles, Ospreys, Brown 
Pelicans, and many other creatures. Then ecosystems had decades to flush 
themselves and heal while the birds slowly repopulated. 

Yesterday I succeeded in seeing the fastest of predators lying humbly, vague 
and anonymous in the distance, on a rock ledge waiting for her eggs to hatch. I 
knew more or less where to look, but it took me awhile. The best clue was the 
presumed male Peregrine perched & preening on a dead tree that overhung the 
gorge. Where he was on guard duty, the nest site must be nearby. I spent awhile 
staring at a bird-like-object on the wrong shelf before I found the actual bird 
staring back. 

I decided to try to photograph what I saw, but my set-up is a bit fussy. I can 
look through the scope, or I can photograph through the scope but it takes a 
few seconds of steadiness to switch, and it’s hard to tell exactly what my 
picture will show or did show. The view was tricky, too, over a fence and 
through a narrow grove of evergreen Hemlocks, other tree trunks, and understory 
trees, then across the substantial gorge. I spent several minutes moving my 
scope, seeking a better vantage. Then I had to ensure my tripod was steady, 
because of wind above and duff below, and because extending the tripod enough 
to see over the fence allowed it to vibrate more. During that time I was unable 
to photograph what I saw: the female raising herself a bit and reaching down 
with her bill to adjust and turn the eggs. My next picture has her lying down 
again, with her head not showing the white pattern on the face so well. But 
after a couple minutes she was pretty much in the original and recognizable 
position. 

Figuring she was settled for awhile, I decided to photograph the male. Maybe he 
had finished preening and looked more like a bird than like a lot of feathers 
sticking, out as he did when I first saw him. His perch had been just a bit too 
far away from her ledge to fit them both in one scope-view photo, so I was 
about to aim the scope on him when I saw that his dead tree was empty, and he 
was fluttering to a landing on the nest ledge, at the end of the shelf which 
was, conveniently, closest to his dead tree and also, respectfully, as far as 
possible from the female. Did any signal request his presence or ask her 
permission? I don’t know. Soon after the male arrived, the female stood up 
(photo) and walked to the edge (photo) before spreading her wings and dropping 
off the cliff, into flight, and out of view. The male then walked along the 
ledge to the nest area, leaned down to arrange the eggs a bit with his bill. I 
think I saw at least 3 of them, light brown like some chicken eggs, but more 
round. Then he settled himself on top of them to take a turn at incubation 
(photo), whether for minutes or hours I don’t know. 

This was all new to me. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it seemed like plenty. I 
hiked back to my bike for the long gentle ride home. Photos, such as they be, 
are here:

https://ebird.org/checklist/S107585659


- - Dave Nutter
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