By Ron Smith The dark hunter from the tundra stood at our kitchen counter, his piercing eyes casting a faraway look. An unsteady balance indicated that he was not well. His journey had been long, but that was not the cause. He was hurt. Our friend the wildlife photographer and his wife had brought him to us after the accident. He was a big, dark morph Rough-legged Hawk, almost two feet long with a four-and-half-foot wing span. This species is a buteo, or soaring hawk, related to the Red-tailed, Broad-winged, Swainson's and Ferruginous Hawks seen on the hawkwatches of the Rio Grande Valley. It would be phenomenal to see him here, however, because this is a nester of the far northern tundra. There he hunts lemmings, hares, birds and even insects, hovering above the prey or sailing low over the terrain. When his game declines in population, he seeks better winter hunting down into the central states. The Rough-legged is named for the feathering that ends just above its toes, similar to the fur coverings worn by humans in cold country. The light color phase is the more common with a pale head and streaked body ending in a black-barred tail. Our hawk was hued all in dark chocolate. Rough-legged Hawk Actually perched on our counter, he allowed us to hand-feed him raw meat. The resulting trauma of an encounter with a car had taken away the ability to feed himself. With an injured leg he could not stand and hold down the prey to tear at it with his sharply hooked beak. He was rendered remarkably docile and seemed to have lost his natural fear of people. We are not wildlife rehabbers, but because our telephone was then the contact for the local Audubon Society, injured birds were frequently brought to us. We remember well the strikingly beautiful Long-eared Owl, shot in one eye by a hunter who thought he had bagged a grouse. We were called when the mistake was discovered. After my wife Sharron picked it up and drove home, it suddenly came to life in our living room.   Whenever we came to feed the owl, it would appear to have departed from this world, lying immobile on its back, eyes closed, but when food came near, a clawed leg would shoot out suddenly. A time to pull back! We kept it in a cage in our bathroom. This was an uneasy arrangement, for the humans at least. Take a bath with one big yellow eye staring unblinkingly at you, and you will feel very uncomfortable. One day when we had the cage outside for airing, the owl knocked off the top and flew into the woods, thereby restoring itself to the wild. We hoped its lack of depth perception did not make it under- or overreach for prey. During one winter's deep cold spell, a conservation officer came with a magnificent Bald Eagle wrapped in a blanket. One leg was nearly severed. A coyote trapper had set his traps on a sheep carcass.. Too much temptaton for a hungry, poorly fed eagle. The bird regarded us with fierce yellow eyes and snapped its beak.  Because we did not have the necessary medical expertise, we had to turn it down, so the bird was taken to a university veterinary facility. This time we learned that the outcome was not good. It never had a chance after the exposure and near-starvation. It is still generally true that the best thing to do with injured animals is to call a wildlife rehabilitation center. Our raptor patient fared better. We were pleased when he grew wilder and less trusting. It meant he was improving and returning to his normal fear of the enemy. We kept him in a long, comfortable cage so that he had some room to exercise. To help him regain his hunting skills, we borrowed a mouse farm from a family who owned a pet python. It takes no time at all for baby mice to reach bite size. Whenever Sharron approached the cage, the hawk threw himself backwards against the far end, wings spread wide, and when she tossed in the mouse, he struck in a blur, a tail disappearing rapidly down his beak. All this tender care stretched from November until Easter. At that time, a tradition at our house for friends and their children was an Easter gala with egg hunt, swimming, kite flying and dinner. A new event was added that year: the Great Northern Hawk Release. The clans gathered in the clearing after dinner. Sharron brought out the recovered bird from its shelter and --- I'd like to say that he lifted off from her arms and soared away to his northern home. That's what I would like to say, but it wasn't that easy. He did take off...but he lit in a tree 20 feet up. Everybody froze, and then he flew right over the dog pen above our astonished trio, a Bouvier, a Scottish Deerhound and a Cairn Terrier.  If dogs can look optimistic, they looked optimistic. Rough-legged Hawk Fortunately, he sailed just high enough and vanished into the forest. Everybody but the dogs exulted.. That summer a farmer afield to the north of us reported a large, dark hawk flying over, listing slightly like a damaged WWII B-17 returning from a bombing run. We trust that our northern hunter made it back to base. Valley Morning Star June, 2003 © 2003 Ron Smith Rough-legged Hawk Photos: Courtesy of Joe Nault Tundra Photo, title banner: Courtesy of U.S. Fish and Widlife Service Be sure to visit Ron Smith's Bird Carvings webpage also, hosted on NMB!