How a Bunch of Dirtbag Climbers Helped Save Yosemite’s Peregrine Falcons
Last summer, headlines celebrated the recovery of the peregrine falcon in Yosemite National Park. In the ‘70s, experts thought that this endangered bird had all but disappeared from the park—but then climbers stumbled upon a nesting pair. Through the efforts of a creative program and a few willing climbers, the peregrine has made a remarkable comeback. At last count, there were 17 pairs nesting in Yosemite. The following is an account about an egg recovery mission some four decades ago that helped bring the population back.
In 1978, Dale Bard, Hugh Burton, Bruce Hawkins, and Ron Kauk made the first ascent of New Jersey Turnpike on the Southeast Face of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. When they veered off to the right of the North American Wall, they were dive-bombed by a couple of angry birds. They had been climbing very close to the birds’ eyrie.
Back on the ground, the climbers reported their experience. The birds were identified as peregrine falcons, which caused quite a stir. Peregrines had been an endangered species since 1973—a nesting pair hadn’t been spotted in the park since 1941 on Mount Broderick.
The peregrine falcon population declined dramatically during the ’50s and ’60s due to the prevalent use of DDT, an insecticide that made its way into the digestive tracts of migratory birds. Even after DDT was banned in the US, migratory birds continued picking up DDT from their travels to Mexico. The peregrines were ingesting high enough amounts to affect the thickness of their eggshells. These eggs were too fragile to hatch in the wild.
Shortly after the climb, the Santa Cruz Predatory Bird Research Group (PBRG) hired Dale Bard and Werner Braun to climb back up to the eyrie to gather egg shell samples for testing. In 1982, the PBRG began taking thin-walled eggs from eyries, hatching them in a laboratory, then placing the hatched young in occupied nests. The idea was to fool the birds into thinking that their eggs had hatched naturally when they were away from the eyrie. The tricky part? Obtaining the eggs from an inhabited nest.
Four years later, in the spring of 1987, I ran into climbers Walt Shipley and Troy Johnson at Yosemite’s Degnan’s Deli and joined them for a beer. Having just recently met both Shipley and Johnson, I didn’t know either of them well. In his animated way, Shipley told me that Rob Roy Ramey III from the Raptor Institute out of Santa Cruz had hired him and Johnson to switch a lab-hatched baby peregrine with the eggs from a newly found eyrie near El Cap Tree. This 80-foot ponderosa pine tree miraculously grew on a large ledge 300 feet up the overhanging Southeast Face of El Capitan.
To place the baby bird, Shipley and Johnson had fixed 300 feet of rope close to El Cap Tree, and 60 feet of rope horizontally within 20 feet of the nest. The pay was $200 per person, and they needed a third partner.
At the time, that was a lot of money for a young Yosemite dirtbag like me, so we shook hands and agreed to meet in El Cap meadow at 8 a.m. the next morning, where he would introduce me to the rest of the team. All I needed to bring were my ascenders, aiders, and some slings.
Shipley bought me another beer and said, “You’re gonna love this, Yager.” He had a lopsided grin, crooked nose, and a twinkle in his eye that I later learned to mistrust. I should have known there was something he wasn’t telling me.
The next morning, I met the crew in El Cap Meadow, where we laid out our gear by the cars and packed up. Ramey was in charge of the operation. Bob Roney worked for the National Park Service and was along to film the egg swap for historical purposes. The young bird was going to be carried up behind us so as not to frighten it with a lot of commotion.
I was hired not only to climb up and help with the egg and young peregrine switch, but also to make sure Roney was safe while he filmed. Roney had a giant VHS video camera that was creatively wrapped in tape. Several pieces of webbing ensured he wouldn’t drop it. He was also using caving equipment instead of the more traditional climbing setup with jumars, aiders, and daisies. He seemed comfortable with his system and it seemed safe, so I didn’t worry about him too much. This was the first time I had seen any caving equipment before. It looked functional, but pretty cumbersome. It was another 30 years before I saw anyone use caving equipment on El Capitan.
Prior to leaving the ground, the fledgling arrived. I observed a hand puppet that looked like an adult peregrine feeding the young caged bird fresh meat. The young bird grabbed the meat violently and ripped it to shreds like it hadn’t eaten in days. For some reason, I found the whole scenario absolutely hilarious. I was making good money and it was turning out to be an interesting day. I really had no idea what I was getting into.
As we jumared up the ropes, the parents left the nest and soared high to see what we were doing. I felt very vulnerable. I was attached to the rock and not very mobile. Peregrines are about the size and shape of a football with wings, and they became progressively more agitated and disturbed as we got closer to their nest. With high-pitched shrieks, they swooped at us, trying to protect their eggs and young. They are the fastest bird in the world, reaching speeds up to 240 mph.
Even though I was terrified, I was fascinated watching them try to scare us off. I thought they were doing a pretty good job. They would swoop at high speed, then fly upward until they stalled out several hundred feet above me. When they lost air speed, they would do a perfectly executed wingover, tuck their wings in and drop like a rock, picking up speed at a frightening pace. Suddenly, I did not want to be here at all. I was scared the whole time, but kept those thoughts to myself. I suspect that the others felt the same.
Just when I thought I was going to die, they would flare their wings above my neck and glide off just inches from me. I would see their dropping shadow next to my stationary one and could not help but flinch every time it happened. I could not only feel the breeze from the air turbulence as they flew by, but I could hear them coming. It sounded like a medium-sized rock falling a long distance, and it made a reverberating whooshing sound similar to a turbine. Both the male and female continuously dive bombed us. This was unnerving and continued the whole time until we left the area completely.
As best as we could, we ignored the diving birds. I was placed close to the nest and Rob Ramey climbed into it. The birds went nuts. I had never seen a peregrine eyrie before and it was much bigger than I had imagined. It was big enough that I could have easily curled up in it and taken a nap. The eggs Ramey found in the nest were placed in foam-protected containers and passed climber-to-climber to the right, much like a fireman in a bucket brigade. Except that we were hanging on ropes on the side of El Capitan.
After the eggs were passed to the right where Roney was filming, we took the young bird in its cage and passed it to the left from climber-to-climber and finally to Ramey. He gingerly took the young bird out of the cage and placed it gently in the nest. He supervised the whole process and was the only one allowed in the nest. One of the adults hit him on his pack with a loud slap. It didn’t seem to faze him at all, but it terrified me. I had the feeling they could take us out anytime they wanted to. I suddenly had visions of them shredding my neck with their talons as they dove by. After seeing Ramey get hit, I was eager to get the hell out of there.
As soon as we’d completed the switch, we took the pack with the eggs and started rappelling. Within a half-hour, the adult pair were back at the nest feeding their new baby like nothing had happened.
Before that day, I knew very little about peregrine falcons. I thought the project had a very slim chance of working. I am glad I was wrong.
Today there are 17 documented pairs of peregrines in the park. In 1986, there were only two known pairs, one in Yosemite Valley and one in Hetch Hetchy. Without help, peregrines probably would have disappeared from the park.
The climbing community played a big role in their recovery. To this day, climbers still help by observing closures during nesting season. We are lucky to share these wild places with these majestic birds. I am proud that I was able to have had a small part in their future survival.
The post How a Bunch of Dirtbag Climbers Helped Save Yosemite’s Peregrine Falcons appeared first on Climbing.