Osprey may like to fish, but like many birds of prey, they are adept at soaring high up and using their keen eyesight to forage. (Image: Brendan McGarry)
Football has never been my thing, but that doesn’t mean I lack hometown pride for the Seattle Seahawks winning the Super Bowl. And I also can’t help but enjoy that the team has a unique name that feels deeply rooted in our city and region. I can’t help but think of soaring vistas of water and rising peaks when I hear mention of the Seahawks.
But what exactly is a seahawk, anyway?
Truthfully, there is no specific bird called a seahawk. However, this colloquialism is often applied to a singular native bird that calls the water and skies around the Hill home half the year: The Osprey, Pandion haliaetus. Ospreys are far from rare, but they live a very unique existence. Living almost entirely off live fish, they are deeply tied to water and are rarely seen far from it. While they aren’t exactly a hawk in the strictest sense – Osprey are monotypic and the only representative of their family and genus – the nickname seahawk is totally understandable. It’s not unusual to see them hunting nearshore along the Salish Sea and other bodies of saltwater the world over.
When the NFL franchise that would become the Seahawks put out an open call for name suggestions in 1975, they got a lot of colorful responses. My heart swells at the absurd names that our grungy little city came up with; both those that seem serious and those that mocked the establishment. But one name rose to the top with 153 votes. I wish I could ask those people how they decided on the name. Did they just really like Ospreys?
More likely people chose the Seahawks name as a nod to an idea of a majestic bird of land and water — not any specific species. Birds of prey are strong, swift, impressively eye-catching birds, it’s a rare culture across the world that doesn’t take notice of them. Ospreys are certainly worthy of our attention and devotion (all species are). But while their population in our region is currently healthy and they occur nearly worldwide, excepting Antarctica, we shouldn’t take them for granted (just like a good home team). During the peak of pesticide DDT use in the United States their populations fell precipitously due to the bioaccumulation of the chemical in their choice of prey, which thinned their egg shells and made rearing young successfully challenging at best. Thankfully they rebounded, and every March we can look forward to their return.
While many birds of prey migrate, only a handful fully depart large parts of their range seasonally. Throughout much of the Northern Hemisphere, Osprey are only seasonal visitors – showing up in the spring to breed and feast on seasonally abundant foods and then departing when the temperatures plummet. (In some parts of the tropics and subtropics there are resident Osprey – they decided all that migrating business was too much work.) As the Seahawks were winning the Super Bowl, there were next to no Osprey in the Pacific Northwest yet (but there were certainly ones wintering in the Bay Area where they played).
Just like athletes at the top of their game, Osprey are gifted with physical traits that help them make a living. Their feet are unique for birds of prey, with outer toes that can pivot to fully encircle a slippery fish with their extra long talons (the only other predatory birds with this anatomy are owls, which are not closely related to hawks, eagles, or Osprey). The pads of their feet are also rough and raspy, giving them extra traction on slippery fish.
An Osprey Pair at Commodore Park. Male and female look alike, though females are around 20% larger. They do most of the incubating of the eggs. This size difference is common in birds of prey and may help spread out hunting opportunities (male and female taking different sized prey), and aid females in incubating. (Image: Ingrid Taylar via Flickr)
Seeing Osprey hunt is a truly impressive sight. They are capable of impressive dives to catch their food, often from more than 30 feet in the air. Depending on the catch of the day, an Osprey may plummet feet first into the water or glide low and snag their meal. Long wings and extremely strong wing musculature help them hover when sighting in on their next dive and take off from the water with their catch. I think the latter is a feat that isn’t given enough credit – birds are not heavy (Osprey range about 2 – 4 lbs) and the fish they choose to catch are normally 10-30% of their weight, but sometimes they can be a whopping 50%. Osprey aren’t ducks, they can’t sit in the water, and prolonged time there will result in waterlogged feathers, making takeoff difficult if not impossible. I weigh 180 pounds – the idea of me diving into the water to grab something that weighs 90 pounds (or even 20 lbs) and then pulling it to the surface and flying off with it feels impossible. (It is, I can’t fly.)
Osprey are wonderfully easy to observe, particularly during the nesting season. Unlike many raptors, which tend towards privacy during the nesting season, choosing hidden or at least quiet locations, Osprey are well known for nesting in the middle of urban areas. So long as there is the opportunity to fish nearby and a safe place to raise their young, they can succeed. This might be human made utility or a light pole or a natural tree snag or a cliff edge; in some places where terrestrial predators are not a concern they even nest on the ground. In many cases people are more than happy to provide Osprey with artificial platforms for nesting, both to avoid conflicts with utilities and just because people enjoy their presence. Around Seattle there are multiple places to observe all the intimacies of raising young, from building up the nest (site fidelity is high but a few sticks get added each year), to the babies fledging and learning to hunt themselves. Unless you are a Bald Eagle or another Osprey that gets too close to their nest, most pairs are largely unconcerned with humans walking, boating, and driving nearby.
The Osprey platform at Commodore Park by the Ballard Locks. (Image: Ingrid Taylar via Flickr)
We have several nests within a few miles of Capitol Hill; the closest are at the Union Bay Natural Area and along the Duwamish. Depending on weather, season, and general water conditions for fishing you can catch Osprey overhead, riding thermals, objecting to passing Bald Eagles, and sometimes carrying food. Once you figure out what Osprey look and sound like, they aren’t hard to recognize. Telltale long wings and short tail give them a very angular look, and their shrill whistles are loud enough to piece through the thickest of office windows.
Ironically, the bird that you see flying at Seahawks games isn’t an Osprey or even a native bird. Taima is an Augur Hawk, Buteo augur, an African cousin to our Red-tailed Hawks. But that’s ok, we know that Seahawks are more an idea than a nod to a specific bird. Osprey don’t do as well as falconry birds, so we won’t be seeing one on the field. Their hunting behavior and strong migratory instincts are hard to counter for handlers. However, we can appreciate Taima, Ospreys, and football all commingled under the current joy of the Seahawks. Go Hawks!
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