Talon Show

Our eyes being somewhat less acute than raptors', we seize the Hawk Mountain field guide that classifies hawks by shape. Buteos sport a classic broad-winged, round-tailed silhouette. Falcons have pointed wings and long, tapering tails; accipiters, small wings and long tails.

The rain ebbs as we stroll the flat path to the nearest observation point, South Lookout. A bulletin board with handwritten highlights tells us we should have been here yesterday: six bald eagles were sighted, a season record. The view opens from the trees like a children's pop-up book onto a deeply peaceful valley: rivers, farms and forest. The first hawks of the day, in groups known as kettles, spiral over the ridgeline as the air warms.

"When there's a cold front over the Appalachians, we usually get northwest winds, and birds conserve energy by riding that deflected air current," says Scheivert. "Their other strategy is riding thermal convections. With the sun beating down on the valley, a hot column of air rises up. If you're a broad-wing hawk, you get in that column of air and circle, and the heat actually lifts you. When the hawks are high enough, the heat dissipates. No more lift. They turn their nose, point south, and they sail."

The white streak through the center of the valley is the River of Rocks, boulder-size leftovers from the glacier that pushed past 11,000 years ago. We could have hiked a four-mile circuit around the formation. Instead we opt to hike only another 200 feet to the North Lookout. The slight exertion brings us to the Slides, where conservation history and hawks converge.

This stone ledge provided good shooting for the local gentry; a vintage photo in the visitor center shows hundreds of dead birds covering the ground near the North Lookout. In 1934, a New York conservationist named Rosalie Barrow Edge raised funds to buy 1,400 acres for a sanctuary.

Eagles, the celebrities of the raptor world, are now a conservation success story. Their recent counts, Scheivert says, have consistently surpassed previous records. But not all hawks are rising; smaller birds, including kestrels, seem to be in decline.

As the rocks heat up, smaller creatures hover -- monarch butterflies, dragonflies, hummingbirds. We could fill the rest of the afternoon with other pursuits: Renninger's, the Kutztown antiques market, is a half-hour away. But like most visitors, we prefer to stay on the mountain as long as the light lasts, then head back toward Route 61 for dinner.

The Yuengling beer at Michael B's in Orwigsburg is frosty and fitting, not only because it's brewed up the road in Pottsville. The bald eagle on the label reminds us that he's still missing from our life list -- a reason to return, like the raptors, to Hawk Mountain each fall.