Speaking of Wildlife

—by Jamie Proctor Welcome to the seventeenth column describing the animals of Speaking of Wildlife – Ontario animals that can’t be released back into the wilderness of Ontario due to injuries or habituation to humans. Today we’ll be looking at two red-tailed hawks: Will Scarlet – one of our more senior citizens – and a relative newcomer: Artemis. The red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) is big, sturdy, broad-winged (for soaring), red-tailed (in a rare case of a common name being accurate), and probably the most far-flung and common bird of prey in North America, findable from Alaska to Nicaragua, the diurnal equivalent to the similarly inescapable great horned owl.

If you’ve seen a hawk in Ontario, the odds are better than not that you’ve seen a redtail. So long as there’s somewhere reasonably open to hunt and reasonably tall to perch, they can adapt to just about any habitat, from deserts to rainforests to cities. Their preference for this sort of mixed terrain means they often do well in the sort of disturbed environments created by human activity. 

Their diet is similarly broad and flexible: any mammals (especially!), birds, or reptiles big enough to be worth catching and small enough to subdue, including rodents up to and including groundhogs, birds as big as pheasants, snakes, and the odd bit of carrion such as squirrel ala asphalt. 

Hunting is done by ogling potential prey from a high perch or flying over open terrain, before swooping down and grabbing them. Despite their omnipresence, don’t expect to see much of them in the winter: most of their Canadian range is seasonal, meaning the USA gets to borrow them for the snowy season and temporarily enjoy having double the hawks. 

Infamously, the dramatic screeching call of the red-tailed hawk is frequently used in movies to dub over bald eagles, which look impressive but sound embarrassingly like a cross between a seagull and a canary. 

Will Scarlet is an elder statesman of Speaking of Wildlife, at twenty-four years old. Unlike many of our residents, he was born peacefully in captivity. In accordance with the universe’s tendency to irony, his age has blessed him with extremely poor vision, which makes him somewhat reticent to fly. Less excusable is his dislike of expending effort to do anything: when I began feeding the raptors, I learned that Will would stare blankly at food presented to him until it was brought close enough for him to simply lean over and nip it right out of the glove. Then again, it’s his retirement, he can do what he pleases with it.

Artemis is a much younger addition to the centre, whose journey to us began with someone finding him sitting next to a road with an injured wing. While he was being patched up for rehab, it became apparent he was extremely unafraid of humans, which could mean he may have been kept illegally before being released – possibly on purpose, possibly accidentally, possibly accidentally on purpose.

Either way, his combination of dicky wing and affable views on humanity have seated him with us for good. When viewed concurrently with Will, he’s a good example of the sort of variation found in the redtail’s colour morphs: Will’s head and chest are quite solidly brown, while Artemis’s face and chest are more white than not. 

Will is also considerably more vocal, largely with small cheeps and squeaks of excitement, and a LOT more enthusiastic about his dinner and eager to act on its presence. Accordingly, he gets more of it because he actually burns off his calories, whereas Will – in his idleness – sometimes finds himself having to be on a diet. 

Due to the position of enclosures, both redtails are often among the first people I see coming in to work at the centre; Artemis outside, Will indoors. They were also among the later of the animals at the centre I personally serve food to, since chopping and serving mixed vegetables and fruit is somewhat simpler and less visceral than chopping and serving rodents and quail. 

Still, they’re probably the most straightforward and pleasant of our raptors to feed, albeit for very different reasons. Will because he sits on his perch and watches you leave food on his feeding platform (offering squeaky critique all the while) before taking a few minutes to do anything about it. Artemis because you barely have to put your glove through the door with his lunch before he’s on it, precision-extracted it, departed with it, and begun devouring it. The boy is a professional and does not believe in wasting time. 

I incessantly referred to Artemis as ‘Pete’ for the first six months he was with us, as it was quicker to pronounce and also he often said it to me whenever I walked by. Peet. Peeeet. Peeeeet. 

You can meet Artemis and Will and other inhabitants at Speaking of Wildlife during some of their open houses or other programming. Feel free to have your birthday party there! For more information on these and on opportunities to donate, or have some SOW animals at your next event, follow Speaking of Wildlife on Facebook at facebook.com/SpeakingOfWildlife or go to the website at www.speakingofwildlife.ca.