Originally published December 9, 2020.
Pete Dunne writes of Circus hudsonius in Hawks in Flight:
Perhaps because it is common throughout much of its North American range and conspicuous in open haunts (and perhaps, too, because its characteristic low, cruising hunting flight appears lazy to the human eye), the bird is underrated. The Harrier is nevertheless an admirably versatile, dogged, and enigmatic raptor.
Northern Harriers are “extremely buoyant and agile” writes Jerry Liguori in Hawks from Every Angle. They “gain lift on even the slightest breeze, often appearing to fly leisurely in conditions where other raptors seem to struggle to stay aloft.” A harrier’s wings are often in a dihedral, an upturned V. “Many raptors soar with a dihedral, but Northern Harriers exhibit a more pronounced dihedral than most.”
Harriers more often soar than flap. When they do flap, their wingbeats are slow, “lofty, easy…loose and deep, lacking the stiffness exhibited by most other raptors,” Liguori adds. Set against fields or marsh—they’re known also as marsh hawks—the harrier is easily lost in its landscape. They betray themselves when they break the horizon.
“Harrier,” my old Peterson guide says, “comes from the Old English hergian, meaning ‘to harass by hostile attacks.’” They harassed me. I couldn’t get a good photo despite seeing so many.
Most early photographs I got of harriers went like this: bird facing away; owl-like face1 downturned; white rump. When I saw a harrier it thrilled me like a rarity, not the “underrated” North American representative of the Circus genus.
Capturing even just passable photos of a harrier was an obsession. I’d scroll #northernharrier on Instagram, eyes red with envy. Driving to find harriers my left hand would be on the wheel, right on my camera. I’d drive at a crawl, harriers on my mind—as if Ahab’s whale had been winged, only white on its butt, and easier to find.
The harrier is an antipode to my favorite raptor, the Osprey. Osprey are vocal; I’ve never heard a harrier make a sound—at least not knowingly. They make “an emphatic ‘whew, whew, wee, wee, wee, wee, wee,’” per HawkWatch; the Cornell Lab adds, “Males and females both give a fast series of kek notes lasting 1–2 seconds during courtship displays. When threatened…they use higher-pitched kek notes.”
On the other hand I can’t see an Osprey without hearing it. Seeing me, they vocalize displeasure. Avian Report explains, Osprey “are very loud and vocal [because they] are constantly interacting during the breeding period.” You might hear their “contact, warning, and alarm calls.” They nest high; harriers nest on the ground. Harriers cruise; Osprey beat their wings with what looks like inefficiency. Osprey mate for life; harriers “are known to be polygynous.” Osprey aren’t shy about putting on a show; harriers can be. On a calendrical level, when the Osprey leave I turn to harriers.
My final Osprey sighting one year was November 1. A Belted Kingfisher was atop a cedar, what I assumed was a gull flew behind it. Nearing, it was clear: Osprey. The Osprey’s departure ushers in a time of harriers. That bird marked an ending. Returning to my truck after the Osprey: three harriers. Two cruising, one low in the trees. If a male isn’t hunting “he is sitting nearby as a watchful grey sentinel on a low perch” writes Dunne.
The fact Northern Harriers are relatively common yet remained evasive kept me routinely disappointed. Geoff Dyer writes in Out of Sheer Rage,
...my enormous capacity for disappointment was actually an achievement, a victory. The devastating scale of my disappointment (“I am down, but not yet defeated,” Gaugin snivel-boasted) was proof of how much I still expected and wanted from the world, of what high hopes I still had of it. When I am no longer capable of disappointment the romance will be gone: I may as well be dead.
If every harrier encounter feels perfect, I may as well be dead. I’ve gotten better images, but am always left wanting more—closer, a longer time, nicer light. The fact this bird can be withholding helps it retain its sweetness when it chooses not to be. I like to imagine these birds know the elation they cause by giving a nice fly-by—theirs to grant or keep.
Disinterested hawks out of a Jeffers poem, I don’t matter to harriers. Now that I have my photographs, seeing this bird is more about Dyer’s romance—wanting more from a creature which can seem reluctant to give it.
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I said I wouldn’t write here as regularly. Thus far I’ve disproved myself. Revising old essays takes less time than writing new ones—a happy compromise. I love Rock & Hawk too much to leave it idle. Its creation was December 2020; until May 2023 fewer than 100 people subscribed; now over 400. I want to bring back older writings for new readers.
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A Northern Harrier has a facial disc, “a concave arrangement of feathers” on the face “that forms a circular parabaloid that collects sound waves and redirects them toward the ears.” Owls are known for their discs—a Barn Owl’s is clear; a harrier’s extends to its neck, “a facial ruff.”
Harriers hunt not just by sight, but also sound. They hunt close to the ground because they’re listening. Liguori writes they “are capable of locating prey by sound in near darkness.” Dunne says the bird is “a master of the subtle art of sneaking up from behind; its standard mode of hunting seems to echo the old adage ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’…pull-ups, wing-overs, and drop-pounces.”
This song makes me think of a harrier I watched hunt (and works as a soundtrack to this video). It was playing as I parked, a guilty pleasure—my top Spotify song of 2023, currently on my “On Repeat” playlist they make, behind Liz Cooper.
I always look forward to the Harriers arriving. I never have seen a grey harrier, I always see the brown.
Fascinating photo essay James. I have never seen a Northern Harrier before. That video clip of one shows that near hover capability with next to no wind. Such an interesting raptor that I do hope to see in flight one day. That sharp V wing dihedral reminds me of Turkey Vultures as well. A nice ability to gain lift with such little wind. I imagine one of these Northern Harriers could quite literally fly circles around the Cooper's Hawks I see regularly!