by Jacques Nuzzo, IRC Program Director

published Summer 2001

When I was in high school, one of my favorite teachers and mentors was Ralph Coate. He was my biology and zoology teacher. The man was loaded with information on the natural world. He would mesmerize me with his stories. He once told us that early in his teaching career, some kids raided an American kestrel nest and took one of the babies. Ralph rescued the bird from his students only to release it later on. At that time I had never heard of a kestrel so I looked up the bird in a field guide. I immediately became intrigued with this little falcon. Later that summer, I saw my first wild Kestrel sitting on a power line. I thought it was the find of a lifetime. I could not imagine that someday I would handle literally hundreds of them. I would be a caretaker for orphans, training adults after severe injuries to return to the wild, building and installing nest boxes, and getting attached to one female in particular.

Guinnevere came to the center in 1996. She was transferred from another wildlife facility. Someone raised her illegally and imprinted her. Imprint birds form a sexual bond with humans that is irreversible. It is a psychological injury rather than a physical one. When she came to us she still had fluffy down mixed in with her feathers. She sat in a carrier and stared at people. Turning her head every once in a while in the raptor greeting. No wild Kestrel would do that. She was to be admitted into our educational program. This was my first opportunity to be acquainted with one up close and personal.

The first memorable thing she did was escape on the second day at the center. She didn't go far but it made my heart jump out of my body as she slipped past me. She few up and hit the top of a tarp we were using to shade some cages. As she crashed down I picked her up and put her back in her cage. From then on she was put on falconry equipment.

Through the years she pleased the crowds at our programs. Kestrels are the smallest falcons found in Illinois. They are great mousers and occasionally they take small birds. Kestrels have a fierceness that I have seen in no other bird. If they were any bigger they could eat cows!
arly one spring Guinnevere seemed restless. She made her shrill "killy, killy, killy" sound every time I walked by her. She flew constantly to the end of her leash. This was behavior that I had never seen her exhibit before. Worried that she would injure herself by constantly flying while tethered to a perch I decided to "free loft" her in a mew. This basically means take the equipment off and let her fly about a small flight cage. To make her comfortable, I put a nest box
in the mew for her. A few days later she was inside the box making little squeaks. I got really worried and lifted the top of the box to see if she was all right. Guinnevere sat there on top of her brand new EGG! It never occurred to me that she could lay eggs. A new window of opportunity was opened to the center with is event. That summer she laid 5 eggs total. We let her incubate her infertile eggs until someone brought in a handful of little kestrel chicks that they had rescued. I slipped into the mews and gently removed each egg and replaced it with a chick. When I left Guinnevere quickly flew back into the box. Inside the nest were the sweetest sounds that I had ever heard. It was the sounds of a mother Kestrel and hungry little falcons.

Guinnevere was a surrogate parent for four years. Each spring we removed her anklets and jesses and turned her loose in a mew with her little nest box. Each year we replaced her eggs with chicks. She raised dozens of baby kestrels - giving them a better second chance than people ever could. As a mother she was VERY defensive of her young. It was not uncommon for you to receive a quick grab of your hand or head if you came near. Once she pulled my hat off when I was standing by her mew. Because she was a human imprint she did not recognize a male Kestrel as a potential mate. We tried free lofting our male "Arthur" with her one time. She nearly killed him before we rushed in to rescue him. She was a fierce and powerful
little bird. I guess that's why I liked her.

We nearly had a tragedy one year at the Illinois State Fair. A volunteer was taking Guinnevere out to her perch at the fairgrounds and let go of her leash. Guinnevere quickly flew away carrying all her gear. She quickly flew off toward the barnyard area. I was sure it was the last time I would ever see that bird. With all her equipment she would surely become entangled in her equipment and die.

Any person who was working with us that day at the fair can tell you I was the most depressed person in the world. I felt like a huge failure for letting this happen and one of the greatest birds in our program was now gone and would surely die.

One week later a conservation police officer called the center to see if we knew anyone who had lost a Kestrel. She had received a call about one that was caught on a fencepost at the fairgrounds. The bird was alive but in poor shape. Before the CPO could hand up the phone I was on my way to the Springfield zoo to see if by some miracle this was our bird. I arrived a short time later and there was Guinnevere. Tired, hungry, and weak she recognized me and started her call. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the end of that day.

Even the most powerful forces in nature come to an end. Each of our education raptors is special. Their life spans in the wild are short - in captivity a little longer. We will loose each one at some
point when their day comes. The day for Guinnevere came this winter. I went out to feed the birds and as I walked by her I noticed she didn't look the same. She was puffed up and the fierceness was gone from her little black eyes. I picked her up and brought her inside. I put her on a perch and removed her equipment. She didn't try to fly away. I put a bath pan of water in front of her. She hoped down and took a few drinks, then hoped back to her perch. I sat there staring at her. She stared back at me. I watched her as she slowly closed her eyes and rested her foot. I reached out and touched her chest. She opened one eye and looked at me, then closed it again.
Guinnevere was leaving me fast and I knew there was nothing I could do. I did nothing that day but just sit there and watch her. Jane came by every once in awhile to try to cheer me up. But she saw it, too.

Guinnevere laid down. Her breathing became shallow and rapid. She winced with pain from somewhere within. This was the part I had dreaded the entire day. The decision had to be made. We would help her pass and relieve her suffering. Guinnevere left us forever: an ambassador, a mother and an educator. She was a wild falcon who thought people were wild falcons too. She was a member of the most compact and elite species of the raptor world. She was strong, and raised many offspring, passing to them her fierceness, and her will to survive. She had become old. She had lived longer than most Kestrels do in the wild. It was her time and we let her go.
This spring I hope to see the little wild Kestrels return to the box I have put on the back of the center1s entrance sign. Maybe those kestrels are ones we released that Guinnevere raised. Maybe she's not gone after all. Maybe her fire lives on with those little scrappy falcons. I hope so. Goodbye Guinnevere. I will miss you dearly. You will never know how much we have learned from you. I hope that you are hunting field mice and sparrows wherever you are. I hope you have a brood of mean fat little chicks and a powerful mate. Thanks for
touching my life like no other.

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