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The first encounter that I had with a peregrine falcon was during a sunny spring day in 2003. My father and I were hiking on deer trails along the coast of the Bay of Fundy. Above us shone the brilliant sun that was gaining its spring strength, while below, at the bottom of the steep cliff, splashed the rolling waves of the Bay of Fundy. Like the new life that spring was awakening around us, we were about to make a discovery that would allow us to contribute to the conservation of a species as it gained new life in old territory. As we were hiking, a piercing cry suddenly caught our attention. As we searched the sky for its source, a bird appeared over the tops of the trees surrounding us. It circled us, watching. I was uncertain at that time of the species of this particular bird, but it appeared to be a bird of prey. My father and I were intrigued at the appearance of this creature. During our frequent hikes along the Fundy coast, we were always careful to watch for any new species of animals or birds. So we observed the bird with our binoculars and noted its features. I was mesmerized by its movements, and as it landed on a dead tree, we decided to attempt to observe the bird at a closer range. However, in the maze of vegetation along the side of the cliff, the bird was soon lost from sight. We had, however, made enough observations to form initial assumptions about the species of the bird. It appeared to be a medium-size bird of prey that frequented the steep cliffs and towering forests that surrounded us. As we continued on our hike, I also noticed another piece of evidence that might aid in its identification—feathers. I found the bright feathers of a blue jay, along with one or two feathers at several other locations. The number of feathers in one location and the presence of blood at other locations allowed me to hypothesize that these birds had been killed by a predator, perhaps by the bird of prey we had identified earlier. Our hike continued, and my investigation was momentarily delayed. |
 A view of the peregrine falcon on a dead tree. Upon arriving home, I looked through my bird book for the possible identity of the bird. I had only seen the bird for a few moments, yet I attempted to draw conclusions about what kind of bird it was. I did remember that it had appeared to have a dark back, a light breast, noticeably pointed wings, and a thin, slightly long tail. It had occupied a mixed forest on the coast of the Bay of Fundy where there were high cliffs and little chance of disturbance. From this description I narrowed my search and eventually determined that our bird of prey was most probably a peregrine falcon. The description of the bird matched the picture of the bird in my Peterson Field Guide. Even the size seemed correct, "near that of [a] Crow" (Peterson, 1980). Gazing at the picture, I could even faintly remember the "sideburns" (Peterson, 1980) on our bird's face. If this were a peregrine falcon, it would explain the appearance of feathers and blood. Peregrine falcons mainly hunt other birds and are even known to dive at speeds "in excess of 250 mph" (Burton, 1974) after birds of varying sizes. With the discovery of the possible identity of our bird of prey, I was able to create a question to investigation: Was a peregrine falcon present on the section of coastline where my father and I had been hiking? From my past knowledge of peregrine falcons, I knew that it was a possibility. So I proposed that there was indeed a peregrine falcon present, and we had just discovered it. |
        
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