The Blair Hawk Project

I mentioned in Backpacking in the Bob that I got buzzed by a protective mother goshawk on my trip.  In spite of my close encounter with the grizzly, the goshawk was the scariest part of the trip.

It was a dark and stormy night—okay, it was really a rather pleasant afternoon, but still . . .  A haggard-looking lone backpacker approached and gave me this warning:  "Watch out—about three quarters of a mile ahead, there's some kind of hawk or falcon that must have a nest, because it dive-bombed me several times."  I thought "Cool.  It'll be neat to see a hawk up close as it makes a few passes among the treetops."  At that time I had no experience with raptor aerial assault tactics.

Just as foretold, about three quarters of a mile up the trail the screeching began out in the woods.  I scanned the dense forest, looking for a large nest, but it was too far back and the trees were too thick, so I couldn't see anything. 

I continued on, thinking maybe I'd get off with just a verbal warning.  Then the screeching got louder, but I couldn't see any movement.  The shrieks grew still louder, signaling that the raptor was getting very close.  I scanned the treetops, but saw nothing. Then swift, low movement caught my eye. Through a gap in the trees a very aggravated northern goshawk sped toward me, right at eye level.  I raised my hiking stick in front of my face, straight up and down so it protruded a couple of feet over my head. The hawk adjusted on the fly, so to speak, gained a little altitude and flew a few feet above the top of my stick, screeching all the while.  It passed so close I could hear the swoosh of its wings.

The goshawk landed in a tree behind me and screeched for a few seconds before launching another sortie at my head.  I raised my stick again, assuming something similar to an Obiwan Kenobi defensive Jedi posture.  The goshawk passed overhead and lighted in a tree.  I snapped a couple of quick photos before hurrying up the trail to get out of the attack zone.  I had to defend against two more attacks before I could get out of range.

I passed through the same area on the return trip, thinking maybe this time I could get an action photo of the goshawk as it was bearing down on me.  That would be a cool pic.  So, lens cap off, camera turned on and held at the ready, I proceeded down the trail.  The screeching began again out in the woods.  I raised the camera and scanned the trees, but saw nothing until the hawk materialized in a gap in the trees at eye level.  It approached so quickly that I lost all interest in taking a picture.  It was then I understood I could never have filmed the Blair Witch Project because the moment I knew there was a real witch after me, I'd have forgotten about the camera and started looking for a big stick. 

On this attack the goshawk changed tactics and flew to high branches in trees closer to the trail, after which it launched near-vertical assaults, perhaps to get past my raised stick.  I tried one more time to get a pic but didn't have much luck.  In this pic, the goshawk is diving behind a tree, swooping down and to the left to circle around the tree in a flanking maneuver.  I took this picture and then got the hell out.