A red-tailed hawk chick's first foray to flight school

Having taught in Port Washington, I remember well this time of year when graduation takes place. So much energy and preparation permeate the community. Soon, a new life chapter will begin for so many.

I, however, have witnessed a more natural graduation, even more consequential to its participants. It takes place at Bethpage State Park, where I work as a naturalist. I am not referring to the tumult of preparation for the Ryder Cup golf tournament in September. That is a human concern.

It’s the graduation of our resident raptors, the red-tailed hawks. The process is called fledging. If successful, the young hawks don’t get a diploma — they learn how to survive.

A hawk nest I was observing hatched two chicks about two months ago. Since then, they have been nest bound, cared for by two dedicated parents. However, graduation was coming.

I got an early call one Friday morning from my co-worker Yael Weiss — one of the chicks was on the ground, across the fairway about 50 yards from the nest.

This often happens when young raptors fledge. They learn to fly by taking wing out of the nest. The process is always problematic and sometimes deadly as landings are not easy.

As I got to the chick, it was on the grass and quiet. I picked it up to check for injury. The chick flapped both wings and grabbed my glove with its talons, which was good. He could not remain on the ground, of course, with so many passing golfers, carts and flying golf balls.

Yael and I decided to get it into a tree near the nest, where fledglings often end up after their “first flight.” We gave up the idea of using our bucket truck to place the chick back into the nest because it would be too difficult and, besides, the adult female does not like those types of intrusions. The lowest hanging branch we could find was about 15 feet up, so we placed the hawk in a comfortable box and hustled back to the park maintenance shop to get a ladder and pick-up truck.

We had all the assembled parts ready when we returned. We stood the ladder in the back of the truck and placed it against the tree. If the young hawk could not balance and stand on the branch, it would indicate that something was wrong and require a visit to a veterinarian.

So, hopes high, I grabbed our chick and stepped up the rungs. I placed it on the branch, balancing the bird as best I could and waited. Almost immediately, it stood up on both legs and started walking up the branch! Then, it started crying out for food — success! Knowing that his protective mom was nearby and already agitated, my co-worker and I made a hasty retreat.

After we had returned to the office, I dropped by to check on our wayward youngster. I could hear it from across the fairway. It was in the same tree I had placed it, higher up and well concealed. Mom was on duty nearby.

Our chick had graduated, having fledged out of the nest and taken the first difficult flaps toward becoming a free, flying raptor. It’s a natural ceremony worthy of congratulations.

Reader Jim Jones lives in Bayville.