GREENLEAF, Wis. — Stephanie Stevens has a unique appreciation for the frigid winters of Wisconsin. Each weekend, she packs her minivan with a large green box and heads for the rural outskirts, typically near the edges of her friends’ farms.
Once there, she dons a heavy leather glove, and her unusual hunting companion, Echo, a young red-tailed hawk, perches on her wrist. “She’s intense,” Stevens remarks, gently running her fingers over the bird’s speckled feathers.
Falconers devote substantial portions of the cold season to being outdoors with their birds, hunting small game such as rabbits and grouse. Many in the falconry community have noted that climate change, along with the development of rural areas and shifts in agricultural and forestry practices, is reshaping the ecosystems they depend on. These changes are evident in the migration of snowshoe hares northward, the decreasing duration of snow cover, and the emergence of new subdivisions in rural landscapes. As a result, falconers are often driven to seek different prey, adjust the timing of their hunting seasons, and grapple with witnessing nature’s evolving face.
Falconry not only provides enthusiasts with a sense of duty to safeguard their hunting grounds but also with a profound sense of loss as climate change and human activities irrevocably transform these landscapes.
“My empathy extends equally to what I’m hunting as it does to the bird on my hand,” states Tom Doolittle, a retired biologist from the Fish and Wildlife Service and a lifelong falconer in Wisconsin. He describes falconry as “a sport of observation and participation,” emphasizing that it has undergone significant changes.
An intimate connection to nature
As Echo takes to the skies, settling among the tree branches, Stevens and her two children search the snowy landscape below for cottontail rabbits. The ideal “rabbitat” consists of brush piles or thick brambles. Stevens often dives right in, using a stick or even her own feet to stir up the brush, hoping to flush out prey.
In a burst of motion, a rabbit emerges, and the hawk swiftly dives. Its anklet bells jingling, Echo sprints through the air but returns with just a tuft of fur—another close call. “Even when the hawk misses, it’s always so close,” comments Stevens’ son, Daniel. “That moment really wakes you up.”
Falconry has a centuries-old history, but in North America, where it is neither indigenous nor easily accessible, it is regulated by both federal and state laws as well as a code of ethics from falconry associations.
Falconers typically capture a bird from the wild that has learned to hunt independently and eventually release it back into nature, forming a temporary and practical bond. These birds retain the freedom to fly away at any time as humans essentially function as their partners, assisting in the hunt, and ensuring the birds are fed even when unsuccessful.
In exchange, humans get “to see a lot of nature that we normally wouldn’t see,” according to Stevens.
This unique partnership instills a deeper sense of responsibility to preserve nature, says Hillary Neff, president of the Wisconsin Falconers Association. She notes paying more attention to weather patterns and animal populations more than ever; some falconers even meticulously record these observations.
Neff expressed frustration at the late start to this year’s falconry season, attributed to an unusually warm fall. “When you are hunting with a raptor, you truly are inserting yourself into the circle of life all the way,” Neff explains. “You’re at the mercy of nature’s whim.”
Changing populations of small animals
In his woodland home located roughly an hour’s drive south of Lake Superior, Doolittle uses goshawks—gray birds with striking orange eyes—to hunt.
Goshawks typically prey on snowshoe hares, but Doolittle has observed these small animals, which turn white in winter, vanish from his surroundings.
Last winter, with the ground bare in mid-winter, he watched as a hare sought camouflage in front of his hawk house—the only white-backgrounded area in the vicinity. “I felt so sad for him,” said Doolittle.
Snow coverage varies annually, but the long-term trend shows that it’s not enduring as before. Warmer temperatures on average make snowfall melt more quickly and alter its physical properties.
Animals dependent on snow for survival are experiencing hardship.
Doolittle relates the loss of animals such as hares to a disappearing element essential to the essence of the North Country. He describes the void felt when he ventures into what should be prime hare habitat, only to be met with a single, lonely snowshoe track.
That disappearance of snowshoe hares in the region is something Jonathan Pauli, a wildlife ecology professor from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, has studied extensively. He compares past and present animal populations, observing a “relatively fast range contraction” for the hares. They are pushed northward, turning into “white lightbulbs” for predators to spot with ease in winter due to climate change. “That’s sad to me, that a species that has persisted for millennia is no longer going to be abundant in or possibly absent from our state,” concludes Pauli.
Some studies indicate that proactive forestry measures can help hares combat climate change-related pressures, although these solutions may not benefit other species like martens. Pauli believes federal and state forest managers, tribes, and scientists will need to collaborate to protect multiple winter-adapted species simultaneously.
Climate change among many factors affecting falconry
Each hunting experience is different, and numerous factors come into play for falconers.
Lesser snow cover can make traversal easier but less effective for slowing prey or detecting animals and their tracks. Birds don’t favor hunting in extreme cold, like the polar temperatures the U.S. repeatedly experienced this winter. Localized severe weather occurrences like floods can also temporarily alter prey populations.
Liberal use of agricultural pesticides can deplete insects that form the base of raptors’ prey’s diet. Human developments like new suburban areas can drastically change rural landscapes. Every element, from coyote populations to land-use policies, plays a role.
Doolittle states that the changes he’s witnessed over the years boil down to the human impact, often to the detriment of other species.
“We must acknowledge that we as a species have the greatest impact on the environment, period,” he states. “I know you’re supposed to adapt to change, but it’s very challenging when it’s meaningful to you or it’s your way of life.”
