One of the keys to being a successful birder is to expect the unexpected.

The unexpected was exactly what I got as I stepped out the door the other morning. The first thing I became aware of was the insistent, perturbed cawing of a crow. Since there are large numbers of these corvids in the neighborhood, I almost dismissed it, but something made me look up in the direction from which it was coming.

Right above me at about 80 feet, an adult red-tailed hawk was being pursued by the indignant crow whose calls first captured my attention. It was the clearest and closest view I have ever had of this hawk.

I was able to make a positive identification of this hawk because I had studied the simple guidelines in an excellent field guide called “Hawks in Flight.” There are four characteristics to look for in the red-tail: a dark bellyband, “commas” at the carpal (wrist) area of the wing, a dark patagium (a bold dark line of color along the leading edge of the wing), and a white chest. Of course, there is the signature red tail, but this is not as obvious when viewed from beneath a soaring bird.

However, the closeness of the hawk enabled me to discern the bright chestnut of the tail.

I could tell it was an adult bird because the tail did not have any barring. On immature birds the tail is finely barred throughout its length.

The red-tailed hawk belongs to the group of raptors known as buteos. They are stocky, large birds with broad wings and short tails, which enable them to soar easily. This flight characteristic is prominently employed during migration, when these birds take advantage of two types of air generation: the updrafts of air that occur along mountain ridges and the rising columns of warm air called thermals. By exploiting these, a hawk is able to attain – and maintain – altitude with a minimum of effort.

The hawk I saw that morning -with crow in tow – flew over the house in an easterly direction until it found a thermal. It began to circle up the rising column of air and the crow abandoned its chase. The last I saw of it was when it reached the end of the column, set its wings, and began gliding off to the south.

I knew it was heading toward its wintering territory, and silently wished it good luck. I hoped I would see many more of its kind next spring.

Chris Corio’s column on birds is published each Saturday. Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com