Merlins Nest in Northgate-Area Neighborhood

By Sean Rose, Seattle Times staff reporter
Meet the Merlins: Spike, the mother, is the feisty one. Thor, the father, is calmer, the main provider. Then there's Puff, so rambunctious he fell from a tree before he could fly.

The family constitutes the first confirmed nesting in Seattle of merlins, a small type of falcon found in Western Washington and British Columbia. The birds are candidates for the state's endangered-species list, and they have been moving into urban areas more in recent years.

This particular merlin family is attracting bird-watchers daily and has sparked interest and protection from several non-birding neighbors, too. Merlins are in the Puget Sound area year round, but there has been no documentation of a nest in Seattle before now.

Driving through a Northgate-area neighborhood in April, Kim McCormick was scanning the tops of trees when she spotted the birds (for their protection, the birds' precise location is not being made public). After pulling over, McCormick saw the birds mate and realized she had found a nesting pair of merlins.

Over the next three months, McCormick along with friend and fellow Seattle Audubon Society member Barb Deihl turned their bird-watching hobby into a study of the birds and their five babies. They spent nearly every day peering through scopes, monitoring the nest, recording what they observed and consulting falcon research groups. Sometimes, they spent four to six hours a day monitoring the birds, and McCormick stayed behind from a family reunion to keep an eye out.

The friends got to know the birds enough to name them. Besides Puff, named for his heavy down coat when he tumbled from the nest, there's T.J., standing for Thor Junior, and Bucky, for all the trips to Starbucks between observation periods. The two female fledglings are still unnamed.
The children are fledging now, testing their wings in flights around large trees.

With binoculars hanging from her neck and adolescent merlins giving shrill calls above, McCormick tried to explain why spending months watching falcons was worth the time.
It was an opportunity to contribute to the knowledge of the animal, McCormick said, and to put her scientific background to use. At the same time, evidenced by the birds' names, "We knew from Day 1 that it wasn't going to be a strictly scientific study."

"We made a lot of friendships that we wouldn't have had otherwise and met a lot of people that we wouldn't have otherwise," McCormick said.

The neighbors near the nest site made the study possible, she said, by allowing her to wait outside their homes. Some brought her water and brownies, and many became curious about the birds and adopted them as part of the neighborhood. One neighbor keeps a roadside puddle clean for the birds. Another neighbor stops when driving past to ask if the babies are flying.

When Puff took a tumble from the nest in late June, a neighbor rescued him, and McCormick took him to PAWS, the Progressive Animal Welfare Society. Puff was released a little more than a week ago, and 15 to 20 people, many of them neighbors, came to see him join his siblings and parents, said PAWS naturalist Kevin Mack.

"It was really pretty encouraging for a neighborhood to take that much interest in the wild animals among them," Mack said. "A lot of times people don't understand that these animals aren't lost ... they're actually living here because there's habitat."

Answering neighbors' questions and educating them on merlins has added pleasure to studying the birds, McCormick said. She said she hopes some will have a greater understanding that tall trees — even in the city — are an important part of bird habitat.

She's not sure how long the merlins will remain in the area, but she advises anyone who views the birds to keep their distance, particularly if the birds are on the ground — and to be respectful of neighbors in the area.

Until the birds depart, McCormick will maintain the vigil she and Deihl started in the spring. After the birds leave, McCormick is hoping she'll still sometimes see a familiar feathered-face somewhere in the trees.