From shooting gallery to a place where all birds dare fly again

"Hawk approaching on the right."

At the spotter's announcement, excitement rippled through the crowd. Binoculars swung up, focusing on a dot in the distant sky.

"Get a picture," my grandsons urged. I tilted my camera, ready for action.

The dot grew larger . . . became a sharp-shinned hawk, riding a current of wind as smooth as a sailboat gliding over water. One more migrating raptor added to the day's count.

We were sitting on the rocky outcropping of North Lookout high up on Hawk Mountain. My husband and I had brought our two grandsons to this spot, the southernmost point on the Appalachian ridge-and-valley province, half an hour west of Allentown. Hawk Mountain is a glorious place on a bright fall day. Rocky paths wind through tall oaks and maples. Clumps of hemlock, rhododendron, and laurel cluster beneath the trees. Trail outlooks offer sweeping views of high ridges falling away to valleys of checkered farmland.

Each year, between late August and early December, thousands of southbound hawks, eagles, and falcons pass Hawk Mountain, funneled into the narrow flyway by topography. Prevailing winds rise when they strike the ridge of the mountain. Those updrafts can carry soaring raptors for miles, conserving energy they need to continue the long migration south.

People come in droves to see the birds - school kids, babies in backpacks, young adults, seniors, visitors from other countries - more than 80,000 people each year.

We had stopped first at the visitor center, where we rented binoculars. Then we headed up the trail.

At South Lookout, our first stop, a guide explained that Hawk Mountain has changed dramatically from earlier times. Today, it's a wildlife refuge and raptor research center - but in the past the site attracted hunters who came in hordes to shoot the migrating hawks.

"Families brought picnic baskets," the guide told us. "Women and children watched while men brought down hawks by the hundreds."

The local practice attracted wider attention in 1932, when the Hawk and Owl Society published an article describing the slaughter. Rosalie Edge, a feisty conservationist from New York, read the article and was horrified. She made up her mind to change things.