Contemplating Kaver

Shakespeare was fond of musing about human nature. His plays captured the essense of humanity with a depth and dramatic complexity that one could argue is still unmatched nearly half a millenium after his death. That's really a propos of nothing, except that I've been thinking about Kaver recently, what with all the comments about what a "good dad" he is, and how attentive he appears to be, spending hours brooding his and Mariah's eggs. Of course, the words of The Bard sprung to mind, with appropriate modification for the avian subject:

"What a piece of work is Kaver"

What a piece of work, indeed...

Does Kaver have depth? Dramatic complexity? Would old Will S. have warmed to our favorite tiercel, put quill to parchment, and penned a bit of iambic penatmeter in his honor? Like many students of the Liberal Arts, I studied Shakespeare in college; high-school too, though I question the value of foisting 16^th century archaisms on kids who can barely speak modern english (and don't even get me started on the poor state of writing these days). Anyway, we were studying Hamlet, Shakespeare's longest play, and certainly one of his most complex. The professor had an interesting observation about Hamlet, his dramatic flaw, if you will. He summed it up with these two aphorisms:

Look before you leap
He who hesitates is lost

Now that's dichotomy for you. Is it any wonder that the instrument of Hamlet's revenge was also the instrument of his own death? That his cunning plan to expose the treachery of his uncle and mother through his feigned madness drove the woman he loved to true madness and death? It doesn't get more tragic than that.

Kaver's no Prince of Denmark, thankfully. I think he's pretty easy to figure out. It's all about biology for the Peregrine. Kaver's "To be, or not to be", is nothing more complicated than the hunt, the drive to reproduce, to raise young that will carry his biological legacy into the future. Why is he such a "good dad"? Because if he weren't, his young wouldn't have as good a chance to thrive. The odds are stacked against them from the start-- first year survival rates for a top-level predator like the Peregrine falcon are pretty poor. Kaver's just doing what nature's equipped him for: Feeding his family; providing a safe environment; breeding prodigiously. Hours spent on the eggs? Reluctance to leave? Could be fatherly devotion, or it could be he just likes easy duty. After all, it takes a lot of energy to drive off those Red-tails that wander into the area. Sitting for a few hours means the only thing he has to exercise are his brood patches. That's not such a bad deal, and good work if you can get it.

There's no question that he's a good provider. From "popcorn birds" in 2002 to the Jay Slayer of 2004, Kaver's demonstrated his bona fides as a Peregrine to be reckoned with. Feeding five hungry eyases for two years running has to be a challenge, even in a target-rich urban environment like downtown Rochester. And he's certainly vigilant, whether for prey or tresspassers:

But complex? Emotional? Mr. Mom? That's giving him a bit more credit (and humanity) than he warrants, and it does a disservice to the purity of his nature. It's fun enough to imagine, but Kaver, wild and ferocious, is no Hamlet. He doesn't suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. He is the arrow.